The Twelfth Distinction
by Mandy15
Summary: With the revelation of a very nasty Centre secret, Parker and Jarod join forces once again. Their quest raises questions about their past and future, but who and what is the Twelfth Distinction? Sequel to Taking the Moment.
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Twelfth Distinction.  
Author: Mandy  
E-mail: kitty_amazon@yahoo.com  
Rating: PG-13  
Category: S  
Spoilers: mid-season four.  
Key words: UST, JMPR.  
Author's Notes: Sequel to Taking the Moment.   
Summary: Miss Parker and Jarod join forces again when Jarod discovers a   
particularly nasty Centre secret - one with serious ramifications for Parker.   
Their quest for the truth raises questions about their past, their future, and   
their continuing unsteady emotional involvement... but who and what is the   
Twelfth Distinction?  
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah blah no infringement intended, no profit gained.  
  
  
  
The Twelfth Distinction  
  
  
Jarod's absence was beginning to get annoying. Miss Parker sat at her   
desk, a drink in one hand, and a ream of computer printouts in the other. It   
was yet more useless data that really only meant one thing; Jarod was still   
gone.   
  
She was stuck with a fading tan, one anxious techie, a bear for a brother   
and one mildly depressed shrink, all waiting for the one thing that would   
provide relief from the daily monotony. A sign from Jarod. Any sign, any clue   
or taunting comment. Even a stone cold trail would be better than nothing at   
all.  
  
A month earlier Jarod had called to announce that, after his incarceration   
on Laredii Island, he was taking a break, and that they shouldn't expect to hear   
from him for a while. Parker had scoffed at the time, as had Lyle and her   
father. They all knew Jarod couldn't stay away from the Centre for long, and it   
had already been a month and a half since his escape from Lyle's guard on the   
Gold Coast.  
  
His continuing silence had been enough to turn their scorn into doubt.   
Exactly how long did the Pretender intend to stay away?  
  
"Anything?" Lyle asked, propping his feet up on her desk. They had been   
sitting there for an hour and a half in silence.  
  
"Of course not," Miss Parker said impatiently, throwing the ream of papers down,   
"When Jarod wants to be gone, he's gone."  
  
"We've always been able to track him down before," Lyle snapped.  
  
"That's because he's always *let* us track him down before. If he ever really   
wanted to disappear, all he had to do was break off all contact and dissolve   
into anonymity. Which he has done," she said tiredly, gulping down the last of   
her drink and setting her glass aside. Her brother shifted restlessly.  
  
"He'll call. He can't stay away," he growled.  
  
Sydney, of course, was getting worried. He was concerned for Jarod's   
health, despite Parker's repeated assurances that Laredii had done the Pretender   
no serious damage, as well as his mental and emotional state. Miss Parker had   
no easy answer for that; a gnawing doubt was growing that Jarod feared recapture   
so much now that he was willing to drop off the face of the earth. Laredii had   
found him, caught him and kept him for six months without him being able to do a   
damn thing - perhaps that was enough to send him running for cover.  
  
"We don't even know if he's back in the United States," she said idly, to which   
her brother responded with a non-committal grunt, "For all we know he's   
sightseeing in the Far East, riding elephants for fun and pretending to be the   
king of Siam."  
  
Jarod's disappearance had put all of their lives on hold. Each day had   
become more and more frustrating, revisiting useless facts and figures, old   
notebooks, pressing Angelo for answers. With every day that passed, Broots got   
a little edgier, Lyle got a little angrier and Sydney got a little quieter.  
  
As for Miss Parker herself, she had found that her quest for answers had   
stopped. Without Jarod to ask the right questions, she no longer knew where to   
look for the right answers. The truth about her mother and Parker's heritage   
seemed to slip out of her grasp a tiny bit with every passing moment, so her   
days at the Centre had become endless nightmares of slowly twisting   
disillusionment.  
  
"I'm going to go..." Miss Parker stood up, trying to think of something to do.   
Finally she shrugged, "I'm going. Page me if you find anything."  
  
She could sense Lyle's gaze on her back as she left the room, shrugging   
off the discomfort she felt. She hurried along the corridor, pushing open a   
heavy door and stepping into what passed as the Centre's daycare unit. As she   
stepped inside, a small, dark-haired toddler squealed, sitting up and waving his   
arms for attention. Parker smiled, rushing forward to scoop up her baby   
brother.  
  
"Dante, sunshine!" she cooed.   
  
"Sis-sis," Dante gabbled enthusiastically, waving his arms around. Miss Parker   
cuddled him close, knowing she couldn't stay long - her father didn't like   
anything distracting her from the search for Jarod.  
  
She held and talked to him for a few more precious moments, before gently   
putting him back on his rug, under his nanny's watchful eye. Dante pouted, his   
soulful black eyes filling with tears.  
  
"No-no!" he cried, and attempted to stand, letting out a cry of frustration when   
he tumbled back on his bottom.  
  
"Be good, sweetheart," Parker crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to his head.   
Leaving the room, she bit her lip so as to not turn back at the sound of his   
miserable cries.  
  
Her mind wandering, she caught the elevator down to the sim lab, where she knew   
she would find Sydney. Just inside the door she stopped, her gaze softening.   
The psychiatrist stood amongst boxes and boxes of items that had once belonged   
to Jarod.  
  
"I keep waiting to hear his voice on the phone," Sydney said, without turning   
around, "Asking me about the latest problem in his life."  
  
"Perhaps he's learnt how to answer those questions for himself now," Miss Parker   
said softly. She walked amongst the boxes until she faced the older man, who   
was smiling sadly now.  
  
"He's never gone this long before, not while he's been free," he murmured, and   
she heard the thread of pain in his voice.  
  
"He's a big boy, Syd," Parker said, a little more sharply than she had intended.   
Sydney picked up a Pez dispenser at random, turning it over in his hand.  
  
"He has much still to learn about the world, Miss Parker. We all do," he   
murmured. He replaced the dispenser, picking up a red notebook instead and   
flicking through it. It was from the time Jarod had pretended to be a cop, and   
the headlines all seemed to blur together as Sydney turned the pages.  
  
"He'll call, Sydney, he just wants time off," Miss Parker said, with more   
confidence than she felt.  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
Miss Parker pushed her hair out of her face, picking up one of Jarod's   
many discarded ID cards, and staring down at his handsome, smiling face. She   
gave a wry smile.  
  
"Because sooner or later, he's going to want to torment us by informing us of   
what a good time he's having."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Jarod was having a wonderful time.  
  
"Here you go, Mr Capponi," he said with a smile, sliding a perfect short   
machiatta across the table. The elderly Italian man smiled, lifting the   
delicate glass.  
  
"Graci, Jarod," he said.  
  
Jarod grinned, throwing his cloth across his shoulder and sidling back   
behind the counter of the small café with a feeling of supreme happiness. He   
had been working in the tiny café on Brunswick St, one of Melbourne's most   
popular places to eat, for almost a whole week, and had already made many new   
friends. It was, he decided, the perfect holiday - far out of the Centre's   
grasp, in a city full of friendly people, good food and spectacular coffee.  
  
Of course, his caffeine intake had rocketed since he had taken the job at   
Benito's, as there were many different blends to try. Jarod made himself a   
latte with a mild feeling of guilt; at this rate, he'd be up for hours. He was   
sipping on the creamy drink just as Bruno, the owner of Benito's, rose from one   
of the tables, setting his paper aside and donning an apron.  
  
"You can finish up now, Jarod, Melissa will be in for the evening shift soon,"   
Bruno said in his slightly accented voice, and Jarod suppressed a pout. He   
couldn't work all the time, no matter how much he enjoyed it.  
  
"Thanks boss," he said amiably, pouring the rest of his latte into a takeaway   
cup and pulling on his new leather jacket. Bruno gave him a nod and a smile as   
he left, and Jarod stopped several times on the way out the door to say goodbye   
to the regular customers.  
  
Jarod caught a tram into the city centre, content to watch the other   
people on the car with him. The were a few schoolgirls in uniform sitting near   
him, a few business men and women, and an elderly couple sitting up the back,   
their hands clasped. Outside the sky was growing dark with storm clouds,   
although it was still quite warm and humid. At Flinders St Station Jarod   
stepped off the tram, and the sky opened up as he dashed across the street. For   
a short while he was under the overhang of the huge station's roof, but as he   
headed down St Kilda road and across the Princess Bridge, he had no shelter, and   
was drenched by the heavy downpour.  
  
Hurrying across the bridge with his head down, Jarod didn't see the person   
coming his way until it was too late, and they crashed into each other, bumping   
heads. Jarod immediately muttered an apology, stepping back and steadying the   
person he had run into.  
  
She looked up, no sign of recognition on her face, and Jarod had to   
control the sudden urge to flee. He searched her face for a moment; despite the   
wet hair and the running makeup, the features were the same.  
  
"Miss Parker?" he gasped, and she tilted her head in confusion.   
  
"I'm sorry?" she asked. While the voice was familiar, it carried an undoubtedly   
Australian accent.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Jarod stammered, and looked around quickly, but   
there was no sign of Sydney, Lyle, Broots, or any sweepers.  
  
"Have we met?" she asked in confusion, and he focused on her face once more.   
When he looked closer, he realized there were slight, but significant,   
differences.  
  
"I'm sorry, but you look... *exactly* like someone I know," Jarod said. The   
woman blinked, pushing her wet hair out of her face nervously. Raindrops   
shuddered on the ends of her lashes, and more crept down her cheeks like tears.   
Jarod noticed her hair was longer, almost waist length, clinging wetly to her.  
  
"I have to go," the woman said, and went to move away, but Jarod caught her by   
the arm.  
  
"Please... what's your name?" he asked, "Where do you live?"  
  
The woman stared into his eyes for a long moment, and he could see the   
fear there. Driven by some unknown instinct, he took her hand in his own.  
  
"I can help you," Jarod said, "I don't know what they did to you, but I can help   
you."  
  
She bit her lip, and Jarod knew he had struck home. She dug in her   
pocket, taking out a pen and a slip of paper. She scribbled a number onto it,   
the blue ink already smudging in the rain, and pressed it into his hand. She   
began to back away, and Jarod stared at the number, memorizing it instantly.  
  
"Wait," he called, when she was almost ten feet away, "What's your name?"  
  
The woman looked around again, although she appeared to be oblivious to   
the passersby. She seemed to battle with herself for a moment, and then gave a   
tiny smile.  
  
"September. My name is September," she called, and then hurried away.  
  
Jarod stood staring after her, heedless of the rain that soaked his   
clothes, aware only of a horrible ache that had begun in his chest. The woman,   
whoever she was, was either a clone or a twin; that he knew. What bothered him   
was the probability that she was the former rather than the latter.  
  
Turning his face up to the sky, Jarod closed his eyes and allowed the rain   
to run down his face, down his neck, soaking his shirt. He took a deep, slow   
breath, fighting an impossible fury.  
  
"Hey, mate, are you okay?" somebody asked, and Jarod jerked his head down,   
opening his eyes to smile weakly at a concerned looking man with an umbrella.  
  
"Fine. Just... fine," he murmured. The man nodded slowly, and Jarod turned   
away, walking with a heavy heart towards the entrance to Southbank.  
  
In his hotel room, Jarod shucked off his wet clothing, heading straight   
into the bathroom for a hot shower. He washed himself down quickly, shutting   
off the water. He stood in the steamy bathroom for a few moments, contemplating   
the chance meeting on the street. Impossible, he thought. Improbable, the   
Centre would have had to be almost forty years advanced in research to create   
clones the same age as Miss Parker. And there was no doubt that she was   
approximately the same age as Miss Parker... He considered calling her, but   
decided against it. Not until he had more information.  
  
Jarod smiled wryly as he dressed, ruffling his hair dry with a towel. He   
might finally have found a way to pry her free from the Centre once and all, yet   
at her expense. And what a terrible expense.  
  
"Alright September," Jarod said, settling onto the bed and booting up his   
laptop, "Let's find out where you came from."  
  
  
****  
  
  
The next day, Jarod finished up his shift at Benito's at three, sitting   
down at a reasonably private table in the back of the café. On the table before   
him he placed his latte and a folder. As he sipped his coffee and watched the   
door, he considered the information he had gathered - very little so far, but it   
was a beginning, at least. He had managed to hack into the Centre mainframe,   
tracking a regular money flow to a medical facility known as Alkina, an   
Aboriginal name, meaning 'the moon'. Alkina was an isolated facility located in   
Western Australia, somewhere within a day's drive of Perth; Jarod had been   
unable to uncover more than that.  
  
Alkina, whilst funded by the Centre, seemed to be an entirely separate   
entity, and was not on the Centre's network. Jarod puzzled over this as he   
sipped his coffee - either Alkina was so small as to be insignificant, or it   
housed such great secrets as to be well disguised.  
  
Jarod set down his coffee as a familiar shape darkened the doorway to the   
café. The woman stepped inside, her eyes scanning over the customers. Jarod   
was unsettled by the way her gaze passed over him without recognition, and he   
lifted a hand to catch her attention. She gave a brisk nod, striding across the   
room. When she reached his table she jerked out a chair, turning it around and   
straddling it, folding her arms across the back of it.  
  
Studying the woman, Jarod noted subtle differences yet again. Her hair   
was shorter, scraped up in a high ponytail. She wore a plain white wife beater   
and a pair of practical three-quarter length canvas pants and a pair of worn   
looking runners. She was lean and fit, her arms well muscled, her expression   
cool and calm.  
  
"You're not September," Jarod said carefully. He had spoken to September on the   
phone, and she had promised, in her soft, whispery voice, to meet him.  
  
"No, I'm here in her place," the woman said, her accent distinctly English,   
"Name's December. Who the hell are you? What do you want from us?"  
  
Jarod nodded slowly, opening his file and twisting it around so December   
could see. Another one, he mused, another clone from another country. "My name   
is Jarod, and I want to help."  
  
"Alkina. Clever boy," December said flatly, her eyes flicking over the   
contents, "Are you here to try and take her back? Do you work for them?"  
  
"No," Jarod said emphatically, "I escaped too. Four years ago, from the Centre.   
I... I know a woman. She looks just like you. I had thought she was the only   
one-"  
  
"What is her name?" December interrupted. Jarod remembered Miss Parker as a   
child leaning over in the sim lab, cupping her hand around her mouth and   
whispering in his ear...  
  
"January. Her name is January."  
  
December eyed him with some surprise. "The first? Is she still there?   
Can we get her out?" she asked, and Jarod shook his head.  
  
"She wasn't a-"  
  
"She must have come from Magena," December interrupted. She stared off into the   
distance, tapping her fingers rhythmically, "It was abandoned so long ago, I   
wondered what had happened to the Month."  
  
"What are you? Where are you from?" Jarod asked, catching her attention again,   
"Please, I need to know. I want to help..."  
  
"Why should I trust you?" December asked.  
  
"They kept me for thirty-three years," Jarod said quietly. Her face remained   
expressionless, and he continued, "They stole me from my family when I was four   
years old. I escaped four years ago. I have been running ever since."  
  
"You tell me what you are," December said slowly, "And I will tell you what we   
are."  
  
  
****  
  
  
"I am... the twelfth. The last," December said.  
  
They were sitting in Jarod's hotel room. September had joined them in   
time for an impromptu viewing of his DSAs. He had gained their grudging respect   
and trust, and now the Halliburton case was set to one side - it was their turn   
now.  
  
"I'm the ninth," September said shyly, adjusting her long skirt nervously.  
  
"Twelve. One for each month," Jarod said. It was worse than he could ever have   
imagined.  
  
"Yes. We were each, as far as I can tell, named after the month we were born   
in. Twelve of us, created in different countries, different facilities. Spread   
over the globe so that even if we did get out, the possibility of finding each   
other was almost non-existent. September and I were lucky," December said. She   
took her clone's hand in an affectionate gesture, "I found her- or, rather, we   
found each other."  
  
"I didn't even know there were others," September said quietly.  
  
"And you did?" Jarod asked, directing his question to December.  
  
"Yes. Only by accident - one of my handlers conveniently left a file for me to   
find. She wanted me to be free, so she left the motivation for my escape lying   
around," she said. There was a brief, grim silence, and then, "She's dead now.   
I owe them for that. Immediately after my escape I went to America, Magena - I   
knew that is where it had all begun. It was empty, I didn't stick around for   
long because a contact had found someone who looked just like me in   
Australia..."  
  
Jarod nodded slowly, taking it all in. "September, you came from   
Alkina... but you, December..."  
  
"Luneta, just outside of London."  
  
Luneta, Latin meaning 'the moon'. And Magena was Native American, Jarod   
realized, meaning 'the coming moon'. Facilities all named after the moon, the   
lunar cycle - twelve months.  
  
"Where are the others?" he asked. December shrugged.  
  
"I don't know. I haven't been out all that long - a year. September has only   
been out for six months. I know only of Luneta, Alkina and Magena - and Magena   
was closed down over thirty years ago. I don't know what happened to that Month   
- that child."  
  
Jarod knew. She had been raised as the Chairman's daughter... but how did   
Lyle fit into all of this? How did the Red Files fit into it? "And what are   
you? Are you Pretenders?"  
  
"We are whatever they wanted us to be," September said bitterly, and Jarod   
sensed there was a story behind that bitterness, but decided not to press.  
  
"Like you, in a way, but we didn't run simulations. We were what they wanted us   
to be, when they wanted us to be it. Test subjects, research assistants,   
assassins..." December trailed off, her eyes darkening.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said simply, and the two women nodded in unison, "How did you   
escape?"  
  
"I stole a helicopter," September said, sounding jittery, and he once again   
sensed there was more to the story. This frail creature hardly seemed capable   
of the motivation and daring it would take to do something as brash as stealing   
a chopper... so perhaps she had been driven by great desperation and fear.  
  
"I killed two sweepers," December said, lifting her head in a challenging glare.   
Jarod opened his mouth, paused, and closed it with a snap. It was not his place   
to judge her methods - despite the fact it was not the approach he would have   
taken. But Jarod knew he had allies in the Centre, whereas December had already   
told him that her only one was killed.  
  
"What... how did you know about us? Do you know one?" September asked   
uncertainly.  
  
"If you know where she is, we can start making plans to get her out. Will you   
help us?" December demanded.  
  
Jarod scrubbed his hand over his face wearily. "It's not that simple," he   
said. He stared morosely at the carpet for a moment, considering his options.   
Finally he decided to be honest - they had confided in him, after all, "Her name   
is January Parker. She is the Chairman's daughter."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "What?" December snapped in disbelief.  
  
"She works for them. She is... or I believed her to be, the daughter of   
Catherine Jamieson Parker and her husband, who happens to be the Chairman of the   
Centre," Jarod said, and shook his head roughly, "Christ, she looks so much like   
her mother and it never even occurred to me-"  
  
"You're saying she's - she's free?" December hissed.  
  
"Yes. She is part of a team that has been assigned to tracking me down," Jarod   
said. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over, and prowled over to   
the windows of his spacious hotel room. He flicked open the curtains, staring   
down at the street.  
  
"Who is this Catherine?" September asked.   
  
"Catherine must have been the original," Jarod murmured. His mind raced over   
the possibilities, "Why her? Why Catherine?"  
  
"This January. We should contact her-" December began to say, but Jarod waved   
her into silence.  
  
"It's more difficult than that. She's... She wouldn't take it well. It would   
endanger her," he said gruffly.   
  
"Like we're not endangered?!" December growled, "Living on the run? I want to   
find the rest of them! Maybe, with all of us working together, we can get some   
answers..."  
  
Jarod could see people on the Southbank promenade below him, walking or   
sitting at the cafes, some on bicycles. Normal people, living out their normal   
lives...  
  
"You sound as if you care for her..." September said softly. Jarod flinched at   
her words.  
  
"I encouraged her to leave the Centre, to go be with the man she loved. They   
killed him," he said flatly, "They have her bound so tight with lies and   
deception and guilt she can't see the danger ahead..."  
  
"All the more reason to get her away from there," September said.  
  
"There are others she protects!" he exclaimed, turning away from the window.   
Broots, Sydney, Angelo, he thought.  
  
"She is one of us! How can you possibly understand what that's like? We're   
*clones*, Jarod, the only family we have is each other!" December protested.  
  
"I understand. There is a boy out there, a fifteen-year-old boy who looks just   
like me-" Jarod paused mid-sentence.  
  
If Miss Parker was a clone, what guarantee was there that *he* wasn't?  
  
"Oh God!" he groaned, and threw himself down on the bed. It was all too much to   
bear, too much at once!  
  
The mattress sunk as somebody sat on the bed beside him, and a hesitant   
hand touched his shoulder gently. Her hand fluttered, as if afraid he would   
turn on her at any moment, but determinedly stroked his back in a soothing   
gesture. September, he surmised. Somber September.  
  
"You've... you've seen the original?" she asked softly. Jarod turned his head   
to the side, looking up at her.  
  
"Catherine. She died a long time ago, murdered. I never understood why," he   
said, and grimaced, "Perhaps now I have my answer."  
  
"How did you know her?" December asked, her voice emotionless. She had taken   
up Jarod's position at the window.  
  
"I used to play with Miss Parker as a child, so of course I knew her mother..."   
he shook his head sadly, "She was such a kind woman. Such a loving mother."  
  
"Not our mother, really!" December scoffed. She turned to face them, her blue   
eyes glittering, her accent becoming even more clipped with her bitterness,   
"Sister? Is that what you'd call her? Or perhaps just call her the Template."  
  
Jarod sat up, and September shied away, retreating to the other side of   
the room. "She loved her daughter. She gave light and love to every child she   
touched - she would have loved you too," he growled.  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore. She's dead. We have no family but each other,"   
September said sadly, and raised her eyes to meet Jarod's, "We need January,   
don't you understand? It's all we have."  
  
Jarod's heart seemed to break with her words. He understood all to well   
the longing to belong, the yearning ache to find something solid to rest your   
past and your future on. He could no more deny them this than he could deny   
himself his own mother.  
  
"We can't just ask her to walk away, she won't come willingly..." he warned.   
December flashed him a predatory grin.   
  
"So we don't ask, we grab!"  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was the end of another dead week. Miss Parker could feel a migraine   
coming on as she finished up on the Friday evening, and doubted an Aspirin would   
help. In fact, she doubted that anything other than a friendly visit from their   
local Pretender would help, but that seemed out of the question. Jarod had   
still not shown his face.  
  
She gathered her belongings with the reluctant knowledge that she would   
have no time off on the weekend, making her way out to her car and thumping into   
the driver's seat miserably. She was getting more and more depressed about the   
way things were going - so much so that she had *actually* considered going to   
Sydney and requesting either medication or some sessions. She wasn't sure which   
was worse.  
  
The drive home seemed intolerably long, but Miss Parker finally pulled up   
in her driveway, just before midnight. She slung her bag over her shoulder,   
approaching her front door with her keys dangling from her fingers. She paused   
just before entering, biting her lip. She had some sleeping tablets stashed   
away somewhere, perhaps that might help her get some actual rest for once?  
  
Unlocking the door, Parker made her way inside without bothering to turn   
on any lights. She dropped her keys on the console, shedding her gun in its   
holster and kicking off her shoes. She was halfway to the kitchen when she was   
filled with the sudden terrible assurance that she was not alone in the house.  
  
Parker whirled and made a dash for the gun, but a large male figure   
stepped in front of her, blocking her way. They collided, and Miss Parker let   
out a muffled growl. She managed to step back far enough to get a good swing,   
and the man grunted as she hit him in the jaw squarely, before he grabbed her,   
hauling her up against his body. They struggled, while she scratched and tried   
to kick him, but he managed to twist her around with her arms behind her back.   
She shoved against him, and they knocked against the console, sending a vase   
crashing to the floor, knocking the phone off its hook.  
  
They paused, breathing heavily, and Parker shuddered when she felt one of   
his arms sliding around her waist, adjusting his grip so he held both of her   
wrists in one of his. She was drawn back against him, pinned tightly. One of   
his knees thrust between hers, nudging her leg up so she was off balance and   
couldn't kick him.  
  
"Stop fighting!" he breathed, and Parker realized with shock that it was Jarod.   
She began to struggle more, but his grip on her wrists became painful, and he   
growled at her, "Stop it! I'm not going to hurt you!"  
  
"What the hell are you doing in my house?" she panted. Jarod held his lips   
against her ear, still breathing harshly.  
  
"It's very important that you come with me," he said, his warm breath tickling   
the shell of her ear.  
  
"I'm not going *anywhere* with you!" she growled. The arm around her waist   
tightened, and there was another brief tussle as she tried to slip her hands   
free from his.  
  
"I wasn't giving you a choice in the matter!" he murmured once he had her under   
control again. He turned his head, as if searching the darkness, "Are you going   
to stand there all night?"  
  
Miss Parker opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking   
about, when she saw another figure, around her own height and build, step from   
the shadows. As a cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth she began to   
struggle furiously again, but found her effort and her will were draining away   
from her as she slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
  
**** 


	2. Part 2

****  
  
Lyle pulled up at his sister's house in the early morning, exiting his car   
and nodding grimly at the sweeper who stood just outside the front door. On his   
way in, he paused to study the lock briefly - no signs of a forced entry. He   
took some gloves from his pocket, snapping them on as he stepped inside the dim   
central living area. Broots and Sydney were already inside.  
  
Stepping over the shards of shattered vase, he lifted the telephone   
receiver and replaced it in its cradle. He lifted his sister's gun from where   
it lay, still sheathed in its holster, and glanced up at Sydney, "So, you think   
Jarod did this?"  
  
"Yes," Sydney said reluctantly, holding out a piece of paper, "We found this on   
the kitchen table."  
  
Lyle unfolded the sheet of plain white paper - on it, Jarod's familiar   
handwriting. 'You will get your family back when I get mine,' it read, and was   
signed, quite simply, '-J.'  
  
Lyle said nothing, merely refolding the note and tucking it into his   
jacket pocket. He looked back and forth from Sydney to Broots, awaiting   
answers.  
  
"Well, uh, at least we know he is back in the country..." Broots said, and   
shrugged miserably.  
  
"Your pet project is on dangerous terrain, Syd," Lyle snapped, "What the hell   
made him think he could get away with this?"  
  
"I don't know," Sydney said, sounding very, very sad, "This is totally unlike   
Jarod. Normally he would not resort to such extreme measures-"  
  
"Then something must have made him snap!" Lyle interrupted. He turned on his   
heel, dismissing the two other men curtly, "Find him, and my sister, before he   
develops a taste for blood."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Parker felt hazy awareness filtering over her slowly, a sensation of   
motion and the distant sound of voices. She tried to speak, but couldn't get a   
sound out past the thickness in her throat and an ache in her head. She   
struggled to open her eyes, squinting at a sharp, painful bright light.  
  
"...the hotel, she let me escape, but promised it was the end of our truce..." a   
male voice was saying. Jarod, Miss Parker realized, the voice belonged to   
Jarod, as did the blurry face somewhere above her.  
  
She groaned, twisting her head and inhaling sharply, catching the scent of   
male cologne and a faint wisp of soap and sweat. Her head was in his lap, her   
nose against his thigh. She turned her head to look at him again as he stopped   
talking, bending over to look at her. She felt the warmth of his palm on her   
forehead, his thumbs lifting her eyelids one by one.  
  
"Pass me the needle, would you? I'd prefer to keep her out, for the moment..."   
he murmured, and she heard a female affirmative response.  
  
"No. No, you bastard!" she managed to hiss, and Jarod made shushing noises as   
he held her steady. There was a gentle prick in one arm, and her eyes welled   
with tears. The last thing she felt before she passed out was Jarod's palm   
gently stroking her hair, his mouth brushing across her temple.  
  
  
****  
  
  
They had rented a farmhouse in Nevada, a few hours out of Las Vegas and in   
the middle of nowhere. They had enough supplies to last them a month, a   
satellite Internet connection and one car, which Jarod had hidden the keys for.   
December and September had promised to aid and assist Jarod in case Miss Parker   
got violent.   
  
Which he doubted. But he still wasn't taking any chances.  
  
Climbing the stairs, Jarod pushed open the door of the bedroom that had   
been assigned to her. He had noticed her stirring slightly the last time he had   
checked up on her, and expected her to be awake soon. He crept into the room,   
noticing she lay in exactly the same position as when he had laid her there   
several hours ago; on her back, her arms by her side, head on the pillow.  
  
Jarod leant over her, searching her face for any sign of alertness.   
Parker looked unnaturally still, he thought, her pale face slack, and there was   
no movement under her lids. With a start, he noticed she didn't appear to be   
breathing, her chest no longer rising and falling as it had earlier. Kneeling   
beside her on the bed, his hand shaking, Jarod placed his hand to her throat,   
searching desperately for a pulse, wondering if he had fumbled the dosage of the   
sedatives he'd used.   
  
Parker's eyes snapped open just as he found a strong, rapid beat, her hand   
grabbing his wrist in a claw-like grasp. They stared at each other for a   
moment, and then she sucked in a deep breath.  
  
"You scared me!" Jarod accused.  
  
"You kidnapped me," Miss Parker said, and brought her knee up between his   
thighs.  
  
Gasping with pain, Jarod dropped heavily on top of her as she tried to   
roll away, pinning her to the bed. She snarled with fury, and Jarod let out a   
soft groan of pain, grabbing her wrists as she tried to shove him off her. They   
grappled, Jarod managing to get a hold of her wrists and pushing them up above   
her head. He forced his knees between hers, lying with his pelvis against hers.   
There was a moment of silence, and he dropped his face to the pillow beside her   
head, breathing harshly with pain and effort.  
  
"Not nice, Miss Parker," he said after a moment. She bucked against him,   
attempting to dislodge him.  
  
"You fucking broke into my house and kidnapped me!" she snarled.  
  
"You know I wouldn't do it without a damn good reason," he muttered.  
  
"The minute you let me go I'm going to cut your throat and string you up by the   
balls," Parker said dangerously.  
  
"I need your help," Jarod said.  
  
"You prick-!" Parker began, but he cut her off.  
  
"This concerns you, Miss Parker. I wish it didn't," he murmured. He turned his   
head even more, so his nose brushed her ear now. He was suddenly quite   
conscious of the intimate position they were in.  
  
"You couldn't tell me in a phone call?!" she asked incredulously. Jarod raised   
his torso so he could look down into her eyes, their faces only a few inches   
apart.  
  
"You're not going to react well to what I have to tell you. I wanted you to be   
somewhere where you wouldn't do anything stupid," he said seriously.   
  
"What?" she asked. Jarod gave her a measuring look.  
  
"If I get off you, you have to promise not to hurt me," he said warningly.   
Parker nodded slowly.  
  
Gingerly, Jarod eased himself up and away from her, sinking back onto his   
knees in front of her. Parker scrambled upright, quickly straightening her   
clothes and running her hand over her hair. She cradled her temple for a   
moment, and Jarod grimaced sympathetically.  
  
"Sorry ... the drugs... I'll get you an aspirin," he said apologetically.   
  
He climbed off the bed, stepping quickly into the adjoining bathroom, which was   
shared with his own room, and retrieved a couple of aspirin and a glass of   
water. Before he returned to the other room he checked the mirror, touching his   
swollen lip lightly - it was from when Miss Parker had hit him while they   
struggled in her house. The lip was split, and it was slightly painful to talk,   
but nothing he couldn't handle. With a shrug, he returned to the bedroom with   
the aspirin.   
  
Parker swallowed them dry when he passed them to her, and then drank deeply from   
the water. When she had set the glass on the bedside table, she crossed her   
arms over her chest and watched him expectantly. He smiled weakly, running a   
hand through his hair.  
  
"You don't... you don't have to worry about the Centre thinking you've run away   
with me. I came up with a viable solution, letting them think I've kidnapped   
you in a desperate attempt to get information on my family," Jarod explained   
haltingly, but Miss Parker remained unimpressed.  
  
"Great. So what the hell am I doing here, Jarod?" she asked bluntly. He bit   
his lip, staring down at his hands thoughtfully - now that the time had come, he   
couldn't quite find the words to explain it to her.  
  
"I stumbled across something - completely by accident - that is... monumental,"   
he said, measuring his words carefully. Miss Parker eyed him expectantly.  
  
"And what does this have to do with me?"  
  
Jarod opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when a knock sounded at   
the door. He closed his mouth abruptly. He supposed there was no better way to   
explain than with cold hard fact, and crossed the room to stand by Parker, who   
was still sitting on the bed. She looked up at him coldly.  
  
"Come in," he called.  
  
The door swung open slowly, and December and September entered the room.   
September was looking her usual solemn self, her long hair half-covering her   
face, covered from neck to ankle in an oversized sweater and a long skirt. She   
stood timidly in the room, eyeing Miss Parker with nervous curiosity. December   
was more confidant, brazenly stepping into the room and settling her hands on   
her hips. She had her hair up in a high ponytail, and was wearing a tank top   
with the Union Jack on it and some faded jeans.  
  
Parker dropped her glass, not registering when it shattered on the   
hardwood floor. She stared at her two counterparts, her mouth open, and slowly   
began to shake her head.  
  
"No... no, no, NO!" she cried. She leapt to her feet, and then paused, as if   
unsure of what to do. Jarod placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Miss Parker, I want you to meet December, on the left, and September, on the   
right," he said grimly.  
  
"You are January," December said, and it wasn't a question. Parker turned to   
look at Jarod, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"How could they do this?" she asked, "How *could* they?"  
  
"January?" September said hesitantly, "It's okay, really..."  
  
"Don't CALL me that!" Parker cried, and whirled around, lunging for the other   
woman, hands outstretched.  
  
Jarod caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest,   
holding her as she struggled and growled. A moment later the fight seemed to go   
out of her, and she slumped, crying brokenly. Jarod eased them both to the   
floor, pulling her onto his lap and rocking her gently as she sobbed.  
  
December and September sat down opposite them, examining the woman he held   
in his arms. Parker turned her head away from them, so her face rested in the   
curve of his neck, and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin.   
After a few moments she quieted, leaning heavily into him and turning slowly to   
look at September and December.  
  
"I'm not even the original, am I?" she asked. September shook her head   
mournfully.  
  
December held out her hand, showing a single, white scar running across   
the top of her index finger, just above the first knuckle. Reluctantly, Miss   
Parker took off the silver ring on the index finger of her left hand, revealing   
an identical scar, small and clean and precise, as if it were a marking of some   
kind.  
  
"Everybody always commented on how much I look like Mama," she said bitterly,   
and pushed the ring back into place.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jarod said softly.  
  
"Nothing," Miss Parker said flatly, "Nothing can ever make this better."   
  
  
****  
  
  
"Anything?" Lyle asked. It had been three days since Jarod had stolen his   
sister, and now he stood in the sim lab, on the observation deck. Below him,   
Sydney, Broots and Angelo huddled, looking miserable.  
  
"We were just about to give Angelo the note Jarod left," Sydney said.  
  
"There have been no sightings of Jarod at any airports or bus terminals," Broots   
said.  
  
"Of course not," Lyle snapped impatiently, descending to their level, "He's got   
an unwilling captive to drag around with him. Give freak boy the damn note."  
  
Angelo flinched away as Lyle drew closer, but accepted the note Sydney   
offered. He ran his fingers over the writing, flicking his head and blinking   
rapidly.  
  
"Jarod angry," he said, and squinted his eyes in concentration, "Angry, sad. No   
more. No more."  
  
Lyle tightened his jaw, snatching the note away from the savant in   
disgust. "Nothing we didn't know already. Jarod has lost it!" he exclaimed,   
throwing up his hands.  
  
"Jarod wouldn't have-" Sydney began, but Lyle glared him into silence.  
  
"Jarod *has*. My father will *not* be pleased if your little science experiment   
starts killing off operatives," Lyle said. He gave them another last hard   
stare, "The moment you have something, I want to know about it."  
  
  
****  
  
  
They sat around the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Miss Parker   
couldn't help but stare at December and September, unable to come to terms with   
what her sight was telling her. They were clones. *She* was a clone.  
  
"Daddy....He told me never to use my first name. I never understood why,   
because Mama told me it was he who had chosen that name..." she said, and shook   
her head.  
  
"They're designated names. We are only distinguishable because of the month and   
country we were raised in," December said.  
  
"He must have known. He knew you were what you were. Probably signed all the   
forms himself," Jarod said angrily.  
  
"But he didn't want me to go by my code name, by the name that identified me as   
a... as a..." Miss Parker said, but found she just couldn't say the word. She   
skipped over it determinedly, "He wanted me to be different. That has to count   
for something."  
  
"The result is still the same," Jarod said softly. She stared at him for a long   
moment, hurt and loss on her face.   
  
"He's not my father," she said flatly, and then shook her head in confusion, "We   
can't even be related... it doesn't make sense! How do you explain Lyle?"  
  
"Who is Lyle?" September asked, with a strange expression on her face, which   
Parker ignored.  
  
"My brother. My *twin* brother. How is that even possible?" she asked, and   
Jarod tilted his head thoughtfully.  
  
"The only thing I can think of is that your mother was impregnated at almost the   
same time as a fertilized egg was placed in her womb. Perhaps was already   
pregnant..." he said.  
  
"But the blood test..." Parker said helplessly.  
  
"The blood test showed that you and Lyle were blood related. Which you are, in   
a way, you have the same DNA as his mother, but seems as you were too young for   
that possibility, the natural assumption is that you were brother and sister..."  
  
"This just gets more and more freaky," December said darkly. Miss Parker put   
her head in her hands, trembling slightly.  
  
"So where do I come from? What am I?" she asked weakly.  
  
"You are one of us," December said, "You came from your mother, and just not in   
the way you thought."  
  
"And what are we supposed to do now?"  
  
December's mouth hardened into a thin line, and she leaned forward,   
touching Parker's arm reassuringly. Parker lifted her head, and December   
nodded, a strange glitter in her eyes. "We find the bastards who created us,"   
she said, "And we make them pay."  
  
  
****  
  
  
They had decided to retire for the night, to be fresh and ready to work on   
a plan of action the following day. Miss Parker sat in the dark bedroom for a   
while, listening as Jarod ran a bath in their shared bathroom. Feeling   
incredibly morose, she crept downstairs through the dark house, stepping out   
into the night air. It was almost the beginning of spring, and the air felt   
crisp and clean. Stepping out barefoot into the yard, she gazed up at the night   
sky, at the brilliant spread of stars in the night sky.  
  
"You know, it's funny..." a soft voice said, "For a moment I couldn't tell   
whether you were September or January."  
  
December detached herself from the shadows of a tree, walking towards her   
slowly, and Parker could make out the faint glow of a cigarette between her   
fingers. She frowned, "Don't call me that."  
  
"Why not?" the other woman asked, "It's your name, isn't it?"  
  
"It's a label that tells the world I am a-!" Parker paused, and took a heavy   
breath, "That tells the world I'm a clone."  
  
December shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what you are. Denial will only   
cause you grief."  
  
"It's what I am, but not *all* that I am. I won't be compressed into a label,"   
Miss Parker said fiercely. December nodded slowly.  
  
They stood in silence for several moments, both of their faces upturned to   
the night sky. After a while, Miss Parker nodded at the cigarette in December's   
hand, "Aren't you going to smoke that?"  
  
"No," December said ruefully, "I'm not a smoker. It wasn't allowed at Luneta.   
I like to hold one, to break their rules... I suppose it is another form of   
rejection. You don't use the name they gave you, and I don't use the rules they   
gave me."  
  
"The smallest of rebellions are the most important ones," Miss Parker said. She   
watched December curiously, "You broke a lot of rules there?"  
  
December gave a soft, self-deprecatory laugh. "More than they ever knew.   
I was never what they wanted me to be. Sandra, my last handler, used to call me   
a 'free spirit'. She told me no walls could keep me in," December sobered,   
dropping her cigarette and putting it out with her boot, "Sandra said a lot of   
things."  
  
"She was the one who helped you escape?" Miss Parker asked. Something in her   
tone had rung a little bell.  
  
"Yes. Sandra. She's the only one who ever showed me any love or affection in   
my whole life. In the end, that was what got her killed," December said softly.   
  
"She was your lover," Miss Parker said, the answer dawning on her. The other   
woman gave her a sidelong glance, her eyes shining with sadness in the darkness.  
  
"Yes," she said, and nothing more.  
  
They watched the stars together in companionable silence. Finally Parker   
turned to go inside, but took December's hand in her own before she left,   
squeezing briefly. When she turned to look back over her shoulder at the door,   
December was once again merging with the shadows of the tree, a cigarette   
glowing in her hand.  
  
Miss Parker crept upstairs, feeling strangely peaceful. It was as if,   
after a long period of darkness, a light had been lit before her. She was   
finally beginning to understand the loneliness that had eaten away at her for   
her whole life, the loneliness that had eased just a little bit when she saw   
September and December earlier that afternoon. She was just one fragment of a   
much bigger picture. Only one of twelve parts.  
  
Upstairs, Miss Parker shed her clothes, donning the robe that Jarod had   
kindly left for her in a bag of clothes. She ran a brush through her hair very   
quickly, and paused to gaze at herself in the mirror. Just like Mama, she   
thought, and headed for the bathroom.  
  
Opening the door and stepping inside, she was assaulted by steam and the   
scent of soap. Jarod, whom she had forgotten all about, was still using the   
bathroom. It appeared he had finished his bath, and he now stood over the sink   
wearing only a towel, shaving cream covering his jaw. All the heat lamps were   
on, and his golden body was covered in moisture, his wet hair spiky, as if he   
had just run his fingers through it. He turned to look at Miss Parker in   
surprise, a razor raised halfway to his face.  
  
"Hello," Jarod said softly.  
  
"Hello," she said.   
  
Parker's gaze dropped to his chest, and the dark, curling hair that was   
scattered over it. The last time she had seen him shirtless, he had been   
covered in slowly fading bruises, and was quite underweight and unfit. He had   
obviously been working out since then, muscles rippling underneath his tanned   
skin. He flushed under her attention, turning back to the mirror self-  
consciously.  
  
"I'll be done in a minute," he muttered gruffly, raising the razor to his face.   
He tried to shave the area around his split lip, but hissed with pain.  
  
"Here. Let me," Miss Parker said swiftly, taking the razor from his hands.   
Jarod blinked slowly, allowing her to guide him to sit in a chair that she   
pulled out of the corner and close to the sink of warm water.  
  
"You gave me the split lip, I suppose you should be the one to make sure I don't   
rip it off with the razor," Jarod said, a weak attempt at humour, but she   
ignored him.  
  
Parker eased herself between Jarod's legs, entirely too aware that the   
moisture in the air was causing her silk robe to stick to her skin, starkly   
outlining her every curve. Gently she tipped Jarod's chin up with her finger,   
gazing into his liquid brown eyes. She hesitated for a moment, and then set the   
razor to his skin, scraping it down the line of his jaw.  
  
Dipping the razor-head into the warm water, Parker repeated the process on   
each side, until his cheeks were smooth. Placing her finger in the middle of   
his bottom lip, she pressed up slightly, so the skin was taunted. With great   
care she dragged the razor over his chin and down his neck, dipping it in the   
water occasionally.  
  
"You've done this before," Jarod said in a husky, teasing tone, and Parker tried   
not to jump as she felt his hands settle on the backs of her thighs, drawing her   
closer.  
  
Gently she shaved his upper lip, being careful of his split lip, and then   
set the razor aside, taking a washcloth. She washed away the last of the   
shaving cream, and hardly noticed when the cloth dropped out of her hands, so   
she was caressing his cheeks with the tips of her fingers. Her breathing was   
shallow, her breasts feeling heavy and incredibly sensitized, her nipples   
already tight with arousal.  
  
"All done," she murmured breathily, and Jarod nodded.  
  
"Aftershave," he said.  
  
Not looking at the counter, Miss Parker reached out one hand and groped   
blindly until she fount a square shaped glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and   
held it under her nose - it was delicate and musky. She put a few drops on the   
tips of her fingers and smoothed it over his face. Jarod's eyes widened   
slightly at what surely must have been a stinging sensation.  
  
"We should probably go to bed," Jarod said.  
  
There was a beat.  
  
"And not together," he added.  
  
One of his hands left her thigh to settle on her cheek, cradling it   
gently. Almost without her realizing it, Miss Parker began to lean down,   
tilting her head. She stopped, when her mouth was barely an inch away from   
Jarod's, and searched his eyes.  
  
"Do we really want to start something we might never finish?" she asked.   
  
"No," Jarod whispered in reply.  
  
So slowly it felt as if she were hardly moving at all, Miss Parker pressed   
her mouth to Jarod's. She paused, mindful of Jarod's split lip and holding back   
for a moment, and then sweetly, chastely, began to move her mouth over his. His   
hands tightened on her thigh and cheek, but neither pushed her away nor pulled   
her closer. His lips parted, and she deepened the kiss slightly, sliding her   
hand up his neck and into his wet hair.  
  
Parker drew back, slightly breathless, opening her eyes to look into   
Jarod's slumberous aroused ones. His gaze flicked down to her mouth and back up   
again, his thumb dragging slowly across her cheekbone.  
  
"Goodnight, Miss Parker," he said softly.  
  
"Goodnight, Jarod," she whispered, and pressed another soft kiss to his mouth.   
  
Miss Parker straightened up slowly; loathe to let the moment go. Jarod   
stood as she backed away, holding his towel in place with one hand. He turned   
to the door that led to his bedroom, and paused before opening it, not looking   
at her.  
  
"There's something between us, you know. Something that draws us together," he   
murmured. Then he opened the door and disappeared into his own room, the door   
closing softly behind him.  
  
Mechanically, Miss Parker leaned into the shower stall and turned on the   
hot water. She stepped back slowly, and raised her hand to touch her mouth,   
smiling slightly. Crazy, just crazy.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Jarod leaned against the door and let out a deep breath. In the bathroom,   
he heard the shower start up, and grinned in what he was sure was a foolish   
manner. He ran his hand through his wet hair, and then fingered the smoothness   
of his jaw. He let out a soft chuckle.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"Hold still," Jarod commanded, trying to keep the smile off his face. December   
turned away from the window, smirking at the sight before her eyes. Jarod was   
tying Miss Parker to a chair, and she didn't look very happy about it.  
  
"I'm not into these kinky rope games," Parker said with dark amusement. Jarod   
chuckled, checking his knots. December peered back out the window, her eyes on   
September, who was sitting on the grass, her face upturned to the morning sun.  
  
"Okay. Ready!" Jarod said cheerfully.  
  
December turned to scrutinize him. He was standing beside Parker, who was   
tied to one of the kitchen chairs. A careful makeup job had given Parker a   
bruised eye and a small cut below her eye, so it appeared he had roughed her up   
a bit. Her hair was tied back messily, and she looked for all the world like an   
unwilling captive, except for the warm way she was gazing at her would-be   
captor.  
  
"You look too clean-cut, Jarod. Not nearly edgy enough," December mused.   
  
Jarod nodded, mussing up his hair, and ruffling his clothes. He paused,   
focusing for a moment, and then gave himself a gentle shake. When he looked up   
again he seemed somehow worn and haggard, his expression slightly wild.   
December nodded approvingly, and picked up her Polaroid camera as Jarod braced   
himself on Miss Parker's chair, looming over her threateningly. He held up the   
day's paper with one hand, so the headlines were clearly visible. December   
raised the camera and took a shot.  
  
Jarod dropped the paper, this time holding up a sign that read, 'Give me my   
family and you'll get yours.' December took another shot, placing the square of   
film aside to let it develop. Jarod dropped his sign and held up another, and   
December started laughing. She took a shot, and chuckled as she shook it.   
His new sign read, 'Please help me, Miss Parker is trying to jump my bones.'  
  
"What? What's so funny?" Parker asked, and twisted around in the chair so she   
could see Jarod's sign. She read it quickly and scowled, "Asshole!"  
  
"All in good fun, Parker," Jarod said, setting about untying her.   
  
December put down her camera, looking over the pictures. They looked   
good, and certainly realistic. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jarod help   
Miss Parker stand, and they stood very close for a few seconds, her hands still   
in his.  
  
"Why not use the digital camera?" September asked from the doorway, and Parker   
and Jarod stepped away from each other quickly.  
  
"Misdirection, my dear," December said lavishly, and tossed all three shots to   
Jarod.  
  
"It buys us time," he explained, "If I send it in the mail, I have to have it   
redirected a few times, which means it will take a couple of days to get there.   
That gives us a few more days, but has the added advantage of keeping them out   
of date, wondering what my next move will be. And... well, plain old dramatic   
affect."  
  
"Sydney and Broots will be worried about me. I don't like it," Miss Parker   
said, frowning.   
  
Jarod looked down at the third Polaroid, tucking it in his back pocket. He put   
the other two in an envelope, "I know. We'll talk to them tomorrow, if you   
like. They might be able to help."  
  
"Who is this Sydney and Broots?" December asked sharply, "I don't want anyone   
that could endanger us to know."  
  
"They will only be of help," Jarod assured. December shared a lingering look   
with September, which Jarod didn't catch, "Are we ready?"  
  
September let out a deep breath, nodding. December nodded too. They   
followed Jarod into the kitchen, to where their three laptops had been setup, a   
LAN hub on the middle of the table. They sat down, Miss Parker dragging a chair   
up next to Jarod. They all began to open separate programs.  
  
"Remember," Jarod said, "If you think you're being traced, back out. We'll find   
another way. I'll concentrate on the Centre's mainframe, I'm more familiar with   
it."  
  
"I'll go after Alkina," September said.  
  
"And I Luneta," December said.  
  
"Anything and everything," Parker said in a harsh whisper, "I want to know who   
did this."  
  
  
**** 


	3. Part 3

****  
  
  
The day wore on. Miss Parker felt at a loss, watching the three people   
hunched over their computers, data she couldn't understand passing over the   
screen as Jarod hacked his way into the Centre. December sat cross-legged on   
her chair, fingers thumping over the keys, occasionally swearing. September sat   
  
primly, her legs neatly folded beneath her, her touch light and delicate.  
  
Parker made them coffee. When lunchtime rolled around she made   
sandwiches. Information she could recognize as high security Centre data   
flashed on Jarod's screen. She had never seen him work like this before, never   
seen the intense gleam he got in his eyes when he was so focused on something he   
  
forgot his surroundings.  
  
In the late afternoon she made coffee and put out cookies. Jarod was   
distracted from his keyboard long enough to grin boyishly at her, cramming a few   
  
into his mouth. December sat back with a sigh, while September kept working   
quietly.  
  
"Anything?" Miss Parker asked. Jarod shrugged.  
  
"Vague references to money trails and obliterated paper trails to facilities all   
  
over the world. Egypt, Russia, China, Italy..."  
  
"I've heard of them. I can't find out their names or locations," December said   
glumly.  
  
"We will. In time," Jarod said determinedly. Miss Parker took a deep breath.  
  
"How long do you intend to do this?" she asked. He looked at her quizzically,   
and she continued, "How *long* are you going to help us for? When do you go   
back to your crusade?"  
  
September stopped typing, raising her head to look at him. Jarod   
shifted   
uncomfortably, "For as long as I need to."  
  
"What about your family?" Miss Parker persisted, "What about your past, your   
secrets? What about *your* clone?"  
  
"This is important, at the moment. You are, all of you," Jarod said. Parker   
rose to her feet, stiffening with anger.  
  
"Why? You need to find enough information to convince me not to go back there?   
  
Is that it? You help for long enough to embitter me permanently and then you   
disappear back into the darkness?" she growled. December's eyes narrowed   
dangerously.  
  
"Is this true?" she asked, and Jarod flushed.  
  
"Of course not!" he cried. September sipped her coffee quietly, and Jarod   
looked back and forth between the three of them, "I want to help. I want to   
know why they did this and how. And I don't ever want it to happen again...   
there could be more children, suffering. More women, the other nine..."  
  
Miss Parker looked down, suddenly ashamed or her attack on his motives.   
  
September tucked her hair behind one ear and returned to her work. December   
nodded slowly, grabbing a cookie and returning her focus to the information in   
front of her. When Parker raised her gaze again, Jarod was watching her   
passively, without accusation.  
  
"I know this is hard..." he said, reaching out to touch his fingers to her   
cheek. Parker jerked away, rising from her seat and leaving the room.  
  
  
****  
  
  
That night, Jarod lay in bed, unable to sleep. There was a silvery   
light   
in the room from the moon, and he lay on his side, one arm tucked beneath his   
head. They had worked late into the night, but had found nothing more than dead   
  
ends and whispery trails that faded into nothing. The only thing of use they   
had found was a project name - the Distinction Project. September had stumbled   
across it deep inside some Alkina archives.  
  
The Distinction Project. Jarod wondered what it meant...   
  
"What is the final distinction?" Jarod whispered to himself.  
  
He startled slightly at a soft noise, and raised himself up onto one   
arm,   
gaping in surprise as the door leading to the bathroom opened and Miss Parker   
slipped into the room. She moved silently across to the bed, the filmy   
nightgown she wore outlining her every curve in the moonlight, the curtain of   
her hair shadowing her face. Without a word she lifted the covers and slipped   
into the bed, pressing herself up against his back. Jarod tried to twist his   
head around to look at her.  
  
"Lie down," she murmured.  
  
Slowly, Jarod lowered himself back onto the bed, staring at the window.   
  
Miss Parker stroked his shoulder, tucking herself against him so they were   
spooning. Her hand drifted to slip around his waist, her palm resting on his   
bare chest. Jarod covered her slim hand with his own, squeezing gently.  
  
"I couldn't sleep," she said, her breath tickling the hair at the nape of his   
neck. She shifted slightly, her breasts pressing against his back.  
  
"Neither could I," he whispered.  
  
"I'm... I'm sorry about this afternoon," Miss Parker murmured, her voice   
catching slightly. Jarod squeezed her hand again.  
  
"I understand," he murmured, and sighed, "I have wondered if I did the right   
thing, telling you. If you wouldn't have been better off not knowing."  
  
"No. I needed to know... I just- what am I going to do?" she asked, her voice   
wavering slightly.  
  
"Leave them," Jarod whispered, "Leave the Centre. Go with September and   
January. Find the others."  
  
"Yeah, three identical women traveling together and digging into things they   
shouldn't. The Centre will never find me," Miss Parker said, with a soft,   
bitter laugh, and then sobered, "I have to go. Alone."  
  
"You could come with me," Jarod said hesitantly.  
  
"No," Miss Parker sighed, "No. I couldn't. I need to find my own way..."  
  
Jarod was silent, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. He   
understood her need to separate herself from the Centre, to separate and define   
herself from everything that had come before.  
  
"I'm sorry that it took *this* to make things different," Jarod said solemnly.   
Miss Parker sniffled slightly, and he realized she was crying.  
  
"It has been building over years," she whispered, "Since I was a child. Since I   
  
became head of Security, and saw you, all grown up and being kept like an   
animal."  
  
She let out a soft, hiccoughing sob, and Jarod turned, rolling over and   
gathering her into his arms. She let out a sigh, burying her face in his neck,   
and he felt her tears wetting his neck. He stroked his hand down her hair,   
holding her to him gently.  
  
"What am I, Jarod? What have they made me?" Miss Parker asked thickly, raising   
  
her tearstained face up to his.  
  
"You are what you have made yourself," Jarod assured her with a gentle smile,   
and she smiled without happiness.  
  
"I'm not sure if that is any better..." she said.  
  
Jarod gazed at her tenderly, bringing one hand up to cradle her cheek   
tenderly, brushing his thumb over her lips. "I wouldn't have you any other   
way," he whispered. Miss Parker gazed up at him, searching his eyes for a   
moment. She threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging his face down so their   
lips met in a soft kiss.  
  
When the kiss broke, Miss Parker turned her back to Jarod, taking his   
hands and pulling his arms around her, so they lay spooned. He nuzzled his nose   
  
into her hair, and tried not to let his heart break when she began to weep.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Bleary and confused, Miss Parker awoke to the sound of screaming. She   
raised her head, wondering if Jarod was having a nightmare, but this was distant   
  
and definitely female screaming. It was still dark, and the alarm clock said it   
  
was just past four am. Behind her, Jarod tightened his arms around her   
reflexively, mumbling something sleepily before raising his head.  
  
"What...?" he asked, but she was already slipping out of his warm embrace.  
  
He followed her to the door, and she flung it open just as the bedroom   
door opposite opened too. December stared at them for a moment, not missing the   
  
fact that they were emerging from the same bedroom.  
  
"September..." Jarod said, and pushed past the both of them, loping quickly up   
the hall to September's room.  
  
She was still screaming as he opened the door, hoarse, terrified   
screams,   
and she was huddled in the corner of the bed. Jarod went towards her   
immediately, but Miss Parker, struck by a sudden intuition, caught him by the   
arm and pulled him back.  
  
"Don't... you can't touch her, Jarod," she said.  
  
December hurried to September's side, pulling the frightened woman out   
of   
the corner and into her arms. Making sure Jarod would make no move towards   
them, Parker went to sit next to them on the bed, stroking September's hair as   
her screams turned first to low, miserable moans, and then harsh sobbing.  
  
"It's okay, you're safe, and we have you..." December murmured softly, and   
Parker admired the gentle ease with which she calmed the terrified woman,   
obviously borne from practice.  
  
Jarod stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, shifting his weight   
from   
foot to foot. Miss Parker looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and looking away   
very quickly.  
  
"I'll... get some hot milk," he said, and left the room.  
  
September raised her face, looking miserable but much calmer. She   
smiled   
weakly, holding up one trembling hand idly. "I'm okay... just another dream,"   
she murmured huskily, and stood, unsteadily, "I'm just going to wash my face..."  
  
September wandered out of the room in the direction of the bathroom,   
just   
as Jarod returned to the room, a mug in his hands. He gave them a curious look.  
  
"Why didn't you want me to touch her?" he asked. Miss Parker looked at December   
  
hesitantly.  
  
"I just knew... a man did that. Made her afraid like that," she bit her lip   
thoughtfully, as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place, "That was what   
made her run away. That was what gave her the courage... the desperation."  
  
"Very perceptive," December said sadly. She hesitated, then sighed, "The last   
six months. He would come maybe once a month... from what she's told me it was   
brutal. There was no way to stop him. There was nobody to help her. He got   
more and more violent over time - she lost a baby. She had to go."  
  
Jarod took a shaky breath, brushing a hand over his eyes. His shoulders   
  
were tense, and he appeared furious, but when September re-entered the room,   
Miss Parker noticed he forced himself to relax. He passed her the cup of hot   
milk, being careful not to touch her.  
  
"September, you can sleep with me tonight, okay?" December asked. September   
nodded, looking sleepy now that she was over her nightmare.  
  
Miss Parker and Jarod walked September and December back to the other   
room, saying goodnight softly as they closed the door. They stood outside   
Jarod's door, Miss Parker shivering slightly with the cold. Jarod placed his   
hands on her upper arms, rubbing gently. He smiled.  
  
"Come on," he whispered, and pushed the door open.  
  
Miss Parker hesitated for just a moment, and then followed him into the   
dark room. There was a soft rustling noise as he slipped under the covers, and   
he lay on his back, his arms open to her. Miss Parker slid into bed and into   
his arms, laying her head on his shoulder, running her fingers across his   
collarbone. She felt his mouth brush against her temple, and sighed softly as   
she drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"Sydney!"  
  
Sydney looked up at Broots' soft hiss, smiling gently. Broots had   
always   
been somewhat melodramatic when it came to his paranoia, and now was no   
different. The techie was hunched by the door of the sim lab, looking around   
nervously before gesturing the psychiatrist to follow him. Sydney murmured a   
soft excuse to the identical twin girls in front of him, who were playing   
happily. He followed the younger man out of the lab, up the corridor and into   
the elevator. They stayed quiet until they were on the ground floor and out of   
earshot.  
  
"I got a message from Jarod!" Broots whispered excitedly as they entered the   
tech room.  
  
"Jarod? How is he?" Sydney asked eagerly. He had become more and more   
concerned over his proté§©e in the aftermath of Miss Parker's kidnapping,   
reluctant to believe Jarod could have done it, but faced with the possibility he   
  
may have finally snapped.  
  
"We're about to find out..." Broots whispered, dragging another chair over to   
his desk. They both sat, and Broots adjusted his web cam for a moment before   
hitting a few buttons. A moment later, a connection was established, and Jarod   
appeared before them.  
  
"Jarod!" Sydney whispered, keeping an eye on the door in case Lyle arrived,   
"Are you alright?"  
  
"And...and where the hell is Miss Parker?!" Broots stammered bravely.  
  
"I'm here," came her irritated reply, and she slid into view beside Jarod,   
almost draping herself over his arm so they were both caught in the camera's   
view.  
  
"Thank heavens you are both okay!" Sydney said, "But what on earth is   
happening? Lyle believes you kidnapped Miss Parker, Jarod!"  
  
"I... did, actually," Jarod said, flushing uncomfortably, "But for a very good   
reason. I need you to keep up the pretense that I've lost it, it gives both of   
us an edge which we need at the moment."  
  
"What's going on?" Broots asked. Miss Parker and Jarod exchanged glances.  
  
"I can't explain right now, I can hardly believe it myself," she said.  
  
"But we need you to find out everything and anything you can on Magena, and   
something called the Distinction Project," Jarod said, finishing her sentence,   
"I can't stress how important it is that *nobody* knows you are looking into   
this, both for your safety and ours."  
  
"Of course," Broots said, "How do we contact you?"  
  
"We'll reach you," Parker said dismissively. They heard a voice calling Jarod's   
  
name in the background.  
  
"We have to go. Be careful!" Jarod warned.  
  
"It was good to see you both," Sydney said warmly, and Jarod smiled back.  
  
"You too, Sydney, you too."  
  
Then the connection was abruptly cut off, and Sydney and Boots sat in   
silence for a moment, pondering what they had learned. Miss Parker was okay,   
and she and Jarod seemed to be working together on something of great importance   
  
- and they weren't alone. Broots turned to Sydney is sudden shocked confusion.  
  
"Where they... in *bed* together?" he asked.  
  
Sydney blinked. Now that he thought about it, Jarod had only been   
wearing   
a white wife-beater, and Miss Parker a robe. They were both leaning against   
what could have been a bed head.  
  
Slowly, quietly, Sydney began to laugh.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"Well?" Lyle asked, staring down at the timid man beside him. He flashed his   
eyes around the tech room, where two other timid men with thick glasses watched   
on fearfully.  
  
"I... it will take some time, but, ah, I think I have something," the little man   
  
said, and Lyle waved a hand impatiently.  
  
"How long?" he demanded.  
  
"I need to decode the signal and trace it back... twenty-four hours, with all of   
  
us working on it..." the geek said. Lyle reached out with his good hand,   
running his fingers along the other man's badly knotted tie. He gripped it   
suddenly, wrenching him forward so his face went red and his eyes bulged.  
  
"You have *six* hours," Lyle growled, "I want them found!"  
  
Straightening up, Lyle smoothed down the front of his suit, and tugged   
his   
glove tightly into place out of habit. He gave one last glare to all the geeks   
before leaving the room, striding towards the elevator. Jarod had made contact   
with Sydney, he had no doubt, and now he intended to use the Pretender's   
sentimental weakness to track the bastard down and find Miss Parker.  
  
  
****  
  
  
December regarded them quizzically from the doorway as Jarod closed the   
lid on his laptop, setting it on the mattress beside him.  
  
"Brunch is ready," she said softly, "Who were you talking to?"  
  
"Our contacts at the Centre," Jarod said, "They're going to help us."  
  
"Okay... well, meet you downstairs," December said, and left the room, closing   
the door behind her.  
  
Jarod sighed. They had slept late after their early, early morning   
awakening, and waking with Miss Parker in his arms and in his bed had provided   
Jarod with an unexpected delight. As Miss Parker went to move away from him, he   
  
caught her chin, drawing her mouth to his, but she stopped short at the last   
moment.  
  
"Jarod... I don't..." she began, then paused awkwardly. Jarod blinked,   
withdrawing his hand. Miss Parker shrugged, "I don't think we should do this.   
We have enough complications in our lives at the moment, and I don't think we   
need anymore."  
  
Jarod flinched, unable to stop his hurt at the idea that he was just a   
'complication', but he smiled gently, "I understand. I had just hoped..."  
  
"I know," Parker said. She turned away, perching on the edge of the bed with   
her back to him, "Its just chemistry, Jarod. We've been thrown together time   
after time, so it's natural to develop a sexual attraction-"  
  
"Feelings!" Jarod corrected emphatically.  
  
"-But there are other, more important things we need to focus on at the moment.   
  
Having an affair could only provide a distraction that could get us killed," she   
  
finished, as if he had never interrupted. Jarod set his jaw, knowing that her   
harsh words were simply a defense mechanism, but they still cut anyway.  
  
"Fine. Whatever you want," he said quietly.  
  
They went downstairs together, Miss Parker still in her robe, her hair   
tousled, Jarod wearing his yellow pajama bottoms and a wife-beater, both of them   
  
bare-foot. December watched them with narrowed eyes, placing a plate of   
pancakes on the table with a clunk. September was pouring orange juice, and   
jumped at the noise. They all sat down with steaming cups of coffee, and Jarod   
noted, with a sense of mild discomfort, that December, September and Miss Parker   
  
were all stirring their coffee perfectly in sync.  
  
"Tell me about Magena," Jarod said thoughtfully, piling pancakes onto his plate.  
  
"What?" all three women asked at once. He paused, feeling very disorientated.  
  
"Magena, I want to know everything," he said. December shrugged.  
  
"It's about an hour out of Phoenix. You could make it there by nightfall if you   
  
wanted to pay a visit," she said, surprising Jarod.  
  
"That close? It sounds like a good idea then..."  
  
"I'm coming with you," Parker stated firmly. September smiled shyly.  
  
"December and I could stay here and keep running searches," she offered.  
  
"Well then," December said, "Eat up and I'll draw you a map."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Dusk was falling as they finally drove up a beaten old dirt track on top   
  
of a hill towards Magena, and Miss Parker checked December's map several times   
as they approached it. They were in the middle of nowhere, and the dirt road   
was almost overrun with weeds, and the only buildings in sight were an old   
farmhouse and a barn.  
  
"This is it?" Jarod asked dubiously.  
  
"We followed December's instructions to the letter," Parker said, not feeling at   
  
all reassured, despite the mathematical precision of December's map.   
  
They bounced around in Jarod's jeep as they hit a particularly rough   
patch   
on the road, their supplies rattling in the back. He slowed the vehicle to a   
crawl as they pulled up out the front of the farmhouse, and regarded the   
ramshackle structure critically.  
  
"Nobody has been here in years," Jarod murmured.  
  
"Decades, more likely," Parker scoffed.   
  
"Well, we should take a look around," he said, killing the engine.  
  
They both climbed out of the jeep, Jarod tucking the keys into his   
pocket   
and retrieving two high-power flashlights from the back. Passing one to Miss   
Parker, he surveyed the house and barn. "Which one do you want?" he asked.  
  
"House," she said, "Meet you back here in fifteen."  
  
Jarod disappeared in the direction of the barn, and Parker stared at the   
  
little broken down house. She took a tie out of her pocket, and tied her hair   
back in a ponytail, wishing she had her gun. Setting her jaw, she crossed the   
dusty yard to the house, navigating the crumbling stairs up onto the porch.  
  
The floorboards were half-rotted, and Parker had to step carefully as   
she   
approached the door. She tugged open the screen door, and tried the handle of   
the solid wood door - locked. Backing up a bit, she braced her shoulder and   
rammed into it with her side, grunting with pain, but there was a satisfying   
crunch, and the door burst open.  
  
Stepping into the dark interior, Miss Parker turned her flashlight on,   
sweeping it around the room and wrinkling her nose at the stench of mice. She   
crept through the little front room, listening to things scurry in the shadows.  
  
"Oh... lovely," she whispered to herself.  
  
The house looked as if nobody had been inside for years - everything was   
  
covered in a thick layer of dust, and what little furniture there was, an old   
armchair and sofa, was mostly rotted away. In a small kitchen she found the   
ground was covered with broken glass, and there was charring on the wall above   
an old range.  
  
Miss Parker crept through the cold house, sweeping each of the rooms   
with   
a mere cursory glance. There seemed to be nothing of interest, until she   
discovered a tiny room at the back of the house, containing only an old wardrobe   
  
and a decaying single bed. Parker stood in the room, a chill on her spine   
telling her there was something to be found in this room.  
  
Shuddering with disgust, she poked at the mattress on the bed, trying   
not   
to flinch as a mouse leapt out and away. The springs creaked in protest, and   
she leaned across the bed to grip the far side, pulling it towards her and off   
the base, chuffing with effort. She happened to glance up as she was doing so,   
and stopped dead.  
  
Carved, very faintly, on the wall, were the initials CJP.  
  
"Find anything?"  
  
Parker jumped, whirling around to find that Jarod was standing directly   
behind her. She put a hand to her heart, breathing hard. "Christ, don't *do*   
that!" she cried, and Jarod shrugged apologetically.  
  
"Sorry... what were you looking at?" he asked. Parker turned back to the bed.  
  
"My mother was here, those are her initials, just above the bed, see?" she   
asked, pointing. Jarod leaned close, and traced his fingers over the faint   
mark.  
  
"You're right," he said, straightening up, "Was there anything else?"  
  
"I was just about to look under the mattress," she said, and Jarod nodded,   
understanding that she wanted to know if her mother had left anything.  
  
Together they tugged and pulled at the mattress, until it slid off the   
base and landed on the floor, sending up a cloud of dust, making them both cough   
  
and sneeze. When it settled, Parker hunted around the base, but could not find   
anything her mother might have left. Jarod took a pocketknife out of his jeans,   
  
slitting the mattress to expose the springs and rotted stuffing, making a soft   
noise of disgust as more mice scampered out of it.  
  
Miss Parker turned to the wardrobe as he poked through it, yanking open   
the doors and the drawers, but she found nothing but mothballs. Disheartened,   
she turned back to Jarod, who shrugged. Nothing in the mattress.  
  
"My mother was here," she said, and Jarod nodded.  
  
"I found a trapdoor in the barn, which is why I came in. Maybe we'll find   
something there," he said.  
  
**** 


	4. Part 4

****  
  
They left the house, dusting off their clothes as best they could. It was   
now completely dark, and Jarod led the way across the yard with his torch,   
slipping through the barn door he had managed to wedge open. He walked through   
the barn to the very back, waiting patiently as Miss Parker took in her   
surroundings. The barn was empty, the ladder to it's loft long since fallen   
down, half of it's pens collapsing. Above them, she could see the overcast sky   
through holes in the roof.  
  
As she approached, Jarod knelt down, dusting some dirt off of a steel   
trapdoor. Parker knelt beside him, her fingers probing the edges for a catch or   
locking mechanism. Jarod copied the action after a moment, and managed to find   
a small space under one side, and attempted to tug it up. "Help me," he said   
gruffly, and she went to his side, and they both pulled at the door, fumbling as   
it began to rise slightly.  
  
"On three," Parker said, as they both braced themselves, "One... two... three!"  
  
They grunted with effort, their arms straining as the hatch began to lift,   
the door perhaps three inches thick. Jarod gave one corner a shove, so it was   
on the ground, and they managed to slide and push the rest of it out of the way.   
Jarod picked up his torch again, shining it down to reveal a flight of stairs   
leading into the inky blackness.  
  
"Like Donoterase," he remarked, and stood, "Wait here."  
  
He jogged out of the barn with his flashlight, returning a few moments   
later with two guns. He gave one to Miss Parker, tucking the other into his   
jeans. She hefted its weight experimentally, and checked the clip. They stood   
over the opening, gazing down nervously.  
  
"Ladies first," Jarod said with a small smile.  
  
"Age before beauty," she said, and gave him a little shove.  
  
Jarod grinned quickly, and then focused his attention back onto the hole   
as he stepped down into it. Miss Parker waited until he had gone a few steps   
down, flicking the safety off her gun as she began to follow. Jarod turned to   
look at her at the sound.  
  
"Think there's anybody down there?" he asked, resting his hand on the butt of   
his gun. She shrugged.  
  
"It's a Centre facility. There's got to be at least one nutcase that never   
left."  
  
Jarod chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, then drew his own gun and   
continued his descent into the darkness. The stairs seemed to go on forever, a   
well of four landings and steep flights down into the earth, which they   
navigated warily, before their flashlights showed a steel door ahead of them,   
slightly ajar. Jarod stopped before it, and they both listened intently, but   
could hear nothing, and he pushed it open with a soft creak. They crept   
forward, shining their lights up and down the long corridor they were standing   
in. When they realized the corridor was empty, they both tucked their guns   
away.  
  
"Hold on," Jarod said, and approached a circuit box he had spotted on the far   
wall. He opened it, and began fiddling with wires as Parker shone her light on   
it for him.  
  
"Anything?" she asked after a few minutes, and Jarod flicked a few switches, but   
nothing happened.  
  
"No power," he said, and closed the box. They stood in silence for a moment,   
looking up and down the corridor.  
  
"Well. This is nice and creepy," she said softly, "Which way?"  
  
"We could split up?" Jarod suggested, and Miss Parker glared at him. He smiled   
weakly, "Left?"  
  
They headed down the corridor, the air stale and dusty, making Miss Parker   
sneeze. When she finished, Jarod passed her a hankie, and the only sound was of   
their boots on the linoleum floor, a muted tapping sound. Jarod kept shining   
his torch around, looking for any doors, but as they continued on and on into   
the darkness, they still did not come across any.  
  
"I don't like this," Jarod said after a while. They stopped, turning to look at   
each other. Miss Parker shined her light the way they had come - the door they   
had entered through was no longer in sight.  
  
"Me neither," she said softly. They gazed each other, both slightly nervous.   
  
"We could go back..." Jarod said softly, then paused, cocking his head   
thoughtfully, "Did you hear that?"  
  
Miss Parker widened her eyes. "Hear *what*?" she whispered.  
  
"Listen," Jarod said, holding up his hand. Parker listened too.  
  
"I swear, Jarod," she said, after a long moment of hearing nothing, "If you're   
messing with me I'm going to-"  
  
She stopped. She'd heard it that time. A definite, distant, THUMP. It   
sounded as though it came from somewhere up ahead. Parker turned to Jarod, her   
breathing suddenly harsh and erratic as her heart raced, adrenalin making her   
mouth dry.  
  
"What was that?" she whispered. Jarod looked just as fearful.  
  
"I don't know," he said grimly, and drew his gun again. She did the same, and   
they stared at each other for a moment.  
  
"Well... go on," Parker whispered.   
  
"You're not afraid, are you?" he asked. She gave him a disgusted look.  
  
"Fine! I'll go first!" she hissed, and gave him a little shove in the chest for   
good measure  
  
She began to march up the corridor again, but had barely made it twenty   
feet when the thumping sound repeated, and she paused mid-step. Jarod stopped,   
directly behind her, his breath stirring her hair.  
  
"You know... only monsters go bump in the night," she said unsteadily.  
  
"Do you believe in monsters?" Jarod asked. She chewed her lip for a moment.  
  
"I believe that the Centre has created so many unnatural things, we couldn't   
begin to list them all," she said, her voice pained. He touched her arm   
reassuringly, but she shook him off, instead striding confidently ahead.  
  
They continued on, pausing just for a moment every time they heard the   
thumping noise, which was getting progressively louder and occurring more often.   
Determinedly they pushed ahead, Parker clutching her gun and focusing ahead,   
incredibly thankful that she had Jarod by her side.  
  
"There!" Jarod said in sudden excitement, shining his flashlight on a door,   
perhaps twenty feet ahead, set into the wall.  
  
"Finally..." Parker breathed, and they hurried up to it.  
  
The door was solid steel, with a small, grimy window at the top. Jarod   
reached for the door handle, but jumped when they heard the ominous thump again.   
Miss Parker raised her gun, standing guard, and Jarod reached for the handle   
again, turning it slowly. The door swung open with a creak.  
  
"Got your back," Parker said dully, and he nodded.  
  
Jarod stepped inside, shining his flashlight around, and Miss Parker   
followed, her eyes searching every corner for any possible enemy. It took a   
moment for her to register exactly *what* the room was.  
  
"Oh... ugh..." she groaned softly, and Jarod wrinkled his nose.  
  
"It makes a strange kind of sense that the first room we encounter is a morgue,"   
he whispered.  
  
THUMP.  
  
"Shit!" Parker hissed, almost dropping her gun.   
  
"That sounds close," Jarod said nervously.  
  
"Well... let's look around and get the hell out of here!" Parker growled.  
  
Shining her torch around again, Miss Parker eyed the old morgue with   
distaste. There was an old lamp on an arm extending from the ceiling, it's   
glass long since smashed. One old metal tray lay rusting in the centre of the   
room. Jarod moved past her, towards the banks of drawers set into one wall. He   
began randomly opening the doors, peering in.  
  
"Metal crypts," Miss Parker muttered to herself, desperately hoping that Jarod   
wouldn't find any remains in there.  
  
"Nothing," he said after checking all the drawers. He jerked his head in the   
direction of a door set into the far wall, "Shall we?"  
  
Without a word, Parker followed him to the door, keeping a steady grip on   
her gun as Jarod pushed open the steel door. They entered what appeared to be   
an extension of the morgue; lined with shelves and refrigeration units. Jars   
still lined each of the shelves, and Jarod let out a soft groan as he realized   
what was in them.  
  
"Failed..." he choked on the words, swallowed hard, and tried again, "Failed   
fetuses."  
  
Passing her flashlight over a row of jars, Miss Parker felt sick. The   
jars still contained preservative solution, but some of it had evaporated over   
time, leaving the fetuses contained within rotted or decayed altogether, with   
perhaps the last few inches, still resting in the solution at the bottom of the   
jar, whole and intact. It looked as if the disfigured babies were slowly   
melting from the top down.  
  
Miss Parker began to walk down the aisles, studying each jar in turn.   
There had to be hundreds of failed fetuses here, perhaps even thousands. She   
had to recall that the Centre had started cloning perhaps forty years before the   
possibility was even made public, with poor technology in comparison to today's   
standards. There would have been far, far more mistakes.  
  
At the end of one line of shelves, she found one very small jar, still   
completely filled with solution. Inside rested a tiny fetus, perhaps only the   
size of her hand. The spine was almost visible through it's translucent skin.   
Miss Parker picked the jar up, turning it, wondering what had caused this baby   
to fail.  
  
THUMP-THUMP!  
  
Jumping with fright, Miss Parker dropped the jar, gasping when it   
shattered on the floor. The preservative solution splattered on her shoes, and   
the fetus lay on the ground, it's little spine broken. Parker opened her mouth   
soundlessly, and crouched down beside it, reaching her fingers out hesitantly.  
  
"What happened?" Jarod asked behind her, and Miss Parker snapped her hand back.  
  
"The noise startled me... I dropped her," she murmured. She looked up at Jarod,   
who regarded her sadly.  
  
"Don't start thinking of it as-" he began.  
  
"*It* is a baby!" she interrupted angrily.  
  
"-As something you need to mourn. There are over a thousand here. You can't   
grieve for each and every one," Jarod finished. Parker sighed.  
  
"I know..." she murmured.   
  
She took Jarod's handkerchief out of her pocket, gently picking up the fetus   
with it. She cradled it in her hand for a moment, feeling how slick and   
slippery it was as it soaked the thin material. After a moment, she wrapped it   
up and placed it back on the shelf. She scanned the lines of shelves again.  
  
"So many..." she muttered, and turned away.  
  
THUMP.  
  
They both startled, laughing nervously and without humor. Jarod led the   
way to another door, and Miss Parker gave one last look to the shelves of   
fetuses before following him. This time they appeared to be a laboratory of   
some type, steel benches set around the perimeter of the room, with a few in the   
centre. Jarod immediately went to a bank of file cabinets that sat against one   
wall.  
  
"Nothing... there's nothing here!" he hissed in frustration, then jumped as the   
thumping sounded again.  
  
They pressed on, continuing through room after room, twisting and turning   
in a bizarre underground labyrinth of abandoned experiments. They found several   
more rooms with jars of not only ruined fetuses, but what appeared to be body   
parts. The thumping became louder and louder as they progressed, going deeper   
and deeper into the catacombs.   
  
Finally they came to a room, far bigger than all those that had come   
before, where there rested a birthing table and an operating table side by side.   
Steel sinks were set against one wall, a few trolleys near them. Miss Parker   
lifted an old sheet, staring with horror at the rusted instruments that lay   
there.  
  
THUMP-THUMP!  
  
She flinched slightly - it was now louder, almost as if they were   
painfully close to it. She saw Jarod gripping the side of the operating table,   
his knuckles white, his jaw set.  
  
"What is it?" he rasped, and she shook her head, not knowing how to answer.   
  
Fingering the handle of her gun, Miss Parker led the way to another door,   
Jarod falling in behind her. This door had no window at the top, and she   
gripped the handle, surprised when it wouldn't budge. No other door had been   
locked. She glanced over her shoulder at Jarod, who shrugged.  
  
THUMP-CRACK!  
  
"Oh god!" she whispered fearfully, and felt a warm hand settling on her   
shoulder.  
  
"We can turn back if you want..." Jarod whispered.  
  
"No... I have to know if my mother was here," she said fiercely, and his hand   
squeezed gently.  
  
She wrestled with the door again, doing her best to push it open. No   
luck. She stepped back, and Jarod moved forward. He touched the handle   
momentarily, then ran his finger over the lock. He dug a pen out of his pocket,   
breaking it open and taking the spring, which he began to straighten.  
  
"Oh!" he gasped, jerking one hand away.  
  
He raised it, showing Miss Parker where he had accidentally stabbed   
himself with the end of the spring. Blood was beading on the tip of his finger.   
She gazed at it for a moment, before raising her own hands and holding his   
finger steady. Then, while he watched, she brought his bloody finger to her   
mouth, sucking on the end. She tasted salt and copper, and ran her tongue over   
his finger, seeing Jarod's eyes darken with emotion.  
  
THUMP.  
  
Jarod drew his hand away suddenly, flushing, and turned to the lock with   
his straightened wire. Parker smiled wryly, realising he was embarrassed. She   
studied him as he focused on his task, threading the wire into the lock and   
manipulating it carefully. The muscles on his back were rippling under his   
tight black t-shirt as he worked, and she had an incredible urge to reach out   
and touch.  
  
"Ha!" he crowed a moment later, and turned the handle with ease, pushing the   
door open. They both stepped inside, and looked around in grim triumph.  
  
Files. Hundreds of them, littered over desks and cabinets.   
  
"Eureka," Parker muttered.  
  
Without another word they began to rifle through the files, looking for   
anything of interest. The pages inside the manila files were yellowed with age,   
crumpled and torn, but the print was still clear. Miss Parker began to sort   
through a pile, opening each folder in turn, sifting through it's pages, and   
tossing it carelessly aside.  
  
"I don't even know what half of this stuff means!" she growled in frustration,   
scanning her eyes over yet another page full of medical jargon.  
  
Jarod put down the file he was looking at, coming to stand behind her and   
looking over her shoulder. "It's comparing different genetic structures, with   
particular concentration on subjects of higher intelligence and physical   
stamina," he said after a moment. Parker let out a soft noise of anger, tossing   
the file aside and picking up another one as Jarod moved away.  
  
She kept half an eye on him as he wandered around the room with his   
flashlight, only paying the barest attention to the files in front of her, so   
she noticed when he stopped suddenly, hunching over a file cabinet.  
  
"What?" Miss Parker demanded, shining her torch on him. He glanced up, and   
shielded his eyes.  
  
"This cabinet is labelled 'Subjects'," he said.  
  
Parker dropped her file immediately, dashing across the room and almost   
pushing him out of her way in her haste. Jarod set a steadying arm on her   
shoulder as she knocked into him, but she did not so much as smile at him as she   
grabbed the handle of cabinet and rattled it uselessly.  
  
"Hold on while I-" Jarod said, raising his hand with his piece of wire, but   
Parker had already backed up, holding her gun out in front of her.  
  
"Move!" she growled, and Jarod jumped out of the way as she fired a single shot   
into the lock. They both gazed at the smoking hole for a moment, and then the   
drawer creakily slid out and crashed to the ground.  
  
"Or we could do it that way," Jarod said tonelessly.  
  
THUMP-THUMP!  
  
They both started, sharing a nervous glance, and bent over the files that   
spilt out of the drawer quickly. Jarod held his flashlight on them as Miss   
Parker began to flick through. "I really don't like the sound of whatever that   
is," she whispered.  
  
"We'll just find what we need and go," Jarod whispered back.  
  
Miss Parker said nothing, merely turning her head back to the task at   
hand. She began to rummage through the files, suppressing her disgust at what   
she found. 'Subject' profiles, women of childbearing age who were potential   
surrogate mothers. Each profile was complete with medical history and a   
photograph.  
  
Her frustration growing, Miss Parker threw each of the files aside, not   
finding what she wanted. She had almost given up all hope of finding anything   
useful, when she opened a file close to the bottom of the pile. She opened its   
manila folder, and stopped in shock. A small, cracked photograph was stapled to   
the sheets inside, and while it was faded, it was most definitely Catherine   
Parker.  
  
"Mama..." Parker murmured, tracing her fingernail over her mother's face.   
Catherine looked young in the photograph, as it had probably been taken years   
before Parker's own birth. She felt tears welling in her eyes, and dashed them   
away hurriedly, pushing the photograph out of the way to read the file.  
  
She scanned over its contents, disgusted to realise it contained not only   
Catherine's medical history, but also details of her menstrual cycle and sexual   
history. Parker turned the page with a soft noise of horror, only to read the   
same line over and over again.  
  
"What...?" she asked in quiet disbelief.   
  
Jarod craned his head to look, staring with blank surprise. On the very top   
line, read; SUBJECT CJP235: INFERTILE.   
  
Parker flicked back to the previous page, realising the details of her mother's   
menstrual cycle included reports of abnormalities in her cycle since she was a   
teenager, including late or skipped periods and intense cramps. Miss Parker   
turned through more pages, reading of her mother and father's prolonged attempts   
to conceive and a lack of success, and the resultant diagnosis that her mother   
was infertile due to fibroids in her uterus at an early age. The final page was   
a signed and sealed declaration by Catherine Parker herself, stating her   
willingness to participate in an experimental intravenous fertilisation   
technique.  
  
"Oh my god," Miss Parker muttered.  
  
THUMP-THUNK!  
  
"What *is* that?" she hissed, closing the file with a snap. They stood up, and   
she tucked the file under her arm.  
  
"Do you want to find out?" Jarod asked, not looking too keen on the idea. She   
looked over the files scattered all over the place.  
  
"It's driving me mad..." she admitted, "I don't think we're going to find   
anything else here. We know my mother was here - time to go."  
  
Jarod gave a short nod of assent, shining his torch onto the far wall,   
where another steel door loomed. He led the way over, picking the lock with   
relative ease and pushing it open. They stepped into a large office-space,   
where old desks and chairs lay covered with dust. They moved straight through,   
not stopping to check the desks, to another door.  
  
THUMPA-THUMP!  
  
"Is it just me, or is that getting louder?" Jarod asked, pushing open the door   
and emerging into another office area.  
  
"We must be getting closer," Miss Parker said, and trying to keep her hand   
steady as she swept her flashlight around the room.  
  
"Lucky us," Jarod muttered.  
  
They went through another solid steel door, stopping in surprise when they   
emerged at the start of a long corridor. Parker, shining her flashlight down   
it, could see a door probably 100 feet away.  
  
THUMP!  
  
Miss Parker shivered, feeling suddenly cold, and tightened her grip on her   
gun. Jarod was standing directly behind her, and stepped closer suddenly, so   
his chest brushed her back.   
  
"It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll be okay," he said softly.  
  
She didn't say anything, instead creeping up the corridor with her gun and   
flashlight in front of her, Jarod close behind. Jarod brushed her back with his   
hand, and she turned to give him a quick smile.  
  
THUNK!  
  
She jerked around again, the air resounding with the heavy noise.   
Steeling her resolve, she took a deep breath and strode forward. It was best   
they got this over with as soon as possible, she decided. Jarod kept pace   
behind her, and they only paused a little bit as the thump sounded again.  
  
"Okay. Nothing left but to open it," Miss Parker said, when they reached the   
end of the corridor. They both stood silently for a moment.  
  
THUMP.  
  
Her hand trembling, Parker touched the steel door handle, forcing herself   
to grip it firmly. She was ashamed to hear her breathing was harsh and erratic.   
In one swift motion, she jerked the handle down and pushed the door open.  
  
THUNKA-THUMP.  
  
Miss Parker stared. "You're fucking joking me."  
  
"My god," Jarod said roughly.  
  
They were standing in a smaller corridor, perhaps ten feet long, at the   
end of which a steel door was slightly loose on its hinges. The wind was   
whistling through a small gap between the door and its frame, and with every big   
gust was blowing open and banging closed again, causing the thumping sound.  
  
"*This* is what's been making that fucking noise?" Parker yelled. She tucked   
her gun into the waistband of her jeans, and strode up the corridor towards the   
door just as a gust of wind caught it. It flew open, and rain splattered into   
the doorway before it slammed closed again.  
  
Jarod pushed past her, yanking the door open again and running outside.   
Miss Parker followed, not caring that she was getting soaked with rain. She   
stared up at storm clouds, then at her surroundings. The door let out to a   
small rock outcrop on the side of the hill, far below the house and barn. The   
storm clouds had thickened while she and Jarod were in the facility, and the   
wind grown steadily worse and worse, so that the door had banged louder and   
faster.  
  
Turning her face up to the rain, Miss Parker began to laugh hysterically.   
And when she couldn't laugh anymore, she began to cry.  
  
  
****  
  
  
It took September a moment to fully comprehend what she was reading. A   
few minutes before, she had been working away quietly when Jarod's computer had   
beeped. At first, she hadn't quite known what to do. December was outside, not   
smoking one of her cigarettes, and September had finally, hesitantly, lifted the   
lid on Jarod's laptop, and retrieved the email that had been the cause of the   
alert.  
  
Now she was glad she had. She reread the message, aware that her heart   
was beating unnaturally fast. She heard the door bang, and December curse as   
she bumped into something.  
  
"Dec-December?" September called softly. She heard the other woman muttering   
softly, before there was a thump that sounded suspiciously like her kicking   
something.  
  
"What is it?" December asked, entering the kitchen and going to the fridge. She   
opened a carton of milk, drinking straight from it.  
  
"I think you should look at this, Dec," September said, her voice wavering   
slightly.  
  
"What?" December asked. She came around the table, leaning over September's   
shoulder and reading the screen.  
  
The milk carton dropped to the floor.  
  
"Oh. Oh shit!" Dec whispered.  
  
There, on the screen, was a short email. CENTRE KNOWS LOCATION. RUN. -  
CJ.  
  
"We have to go," September said softly, and looked up at December, "We have to   
go *right now*."  
  
They burst into action. September started to shutdown all three of their   
laptops as December ran out of the room, going upstairs. She was so intent on   
disconnecting the laptops from their network cables, that the sound of the   
screen door being pushed open didn't register, nor did the soft footsteps in the   
hall.  
  
"Well, Parker. Doesn't look like you're much of a hostage," a soft voice   
drawled behind her.  
  
September began to tremble. She would know that voice anywhere, and it   
terrified her more than anything else on the planet. She clenched her hands   
into fists, and turned around slowly. The man, leaning in the doorway holding a   
gun on her, did a double take, and then grinned incredulously.  
  
"Not Miss Parker after all," he murmured, looking delighted, "But my runaway   
September!"  
  
September ran her eyes briefly over the man, roughly her own height, who   
was posed so nonchalantly in the doorway - as if they were old friends. As if   
she didn't know the extent of his violence and sadism. He looked paler than the   
last time she'd seen him, leaner. Her eyes dropped quickly to his gloved hand,   
then back up to his pale blue eyes.  
  
"Bobby," she whispered.  
  
"September, my dear September," he said softly, and pushed off the doorway,   
beginning to advance on her. September backed up nervously, but soon realised   
she had nowhere to go - she had backed up to the kitchen bench, and there was no   
way out.  
  
"Leave me alone," she said harshly, almost sobbing with fear. One gloved hand   
stretched out to trace the line of her jaw tenderly, and September shuddered.  
  
"What's the matter, Sep?" he said teasingly, "Don't you miss me? We had such   
some *fun* times together..."  
  
September squeezed her eyes closed, knowing tears were squeezing out and   
not caring, only wanting the man who had terrorised her, the man she knew as   
Bobby, to get away from her. His hand cupped her cheek, and she let out a soft,   
frightened sound.  
  
"The rest of the team are on the way... but maybe you and I should have a little   
time alone together first..." he muttered, his voice thick with arousal, and she   
could feel his breath on her cheek.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" came a sudden hoarse cry, and September opened her eyes   
just in time to see December, absolutely furious, hit Bobby over the head with a   
frypan. Bobby dropped the gun, and staggered around to face his attacker.  
  
September, now shaking with fear, sank down into a crouch, and huddled   
against the cabinets, leaving Bobby to December, who was more than happy to take   
him on. The other woman promptly grabbed him by the shoulders, kneed him in the   
groin and shoved him to the ground.  
  
"Don't you EVER fucking touch her again!" December hollered, and Bobby,   
seemingly astonished, grunted as she kicked him in the gut.  
  
"What the...?" he gasped, and scrambled away, trying to rise to his feet.  
  
December caught him when he was about halfway up with a vicious uppercut,   
so he flew backwards and crashed heavily into the table. Still muttering to   
herself, December went after him, laying blow after blow on him. September   
closed her eyes weakly, blocking out the sounds of the woman she now considered   
her sister avenging her past by putting her hands over her ears.  
  
Sometime later, she felt gentle hands covering her own, and opened her   
eyes to see that December was crouching in front of her, looking grim.   
September took her hands off her ears, and looked fearfully at Bobby, who was   
lying in the corner, not moving.  
  
"We have to go right now, they'll be here soon," December said, and September   
nodded.  
  
December shoved the laptops in their carry cases, slinging them over her   
shoulder. She took September by the hand, leading her out of the room. Just   
before the door, September glanced back at Bobby. His eyes, though swollen and   
bruised, were open, glittering with malicious intent, and he lifted his   
thumbless, gloved hand in time to give her a little sardonic wave.  
  
September bit her lip, turned her head and hurried away.  
  
**** 


	5. Part 5

****  
  
  
Parker and Jarod had decided to climb the hill rather than go back through   
the underground facility, but the wind and rain had grown steadily worse, so by   
the time they were close to the top they were freezing cold and soaked to the   
skin. Parker kept a determined pace, clutching her mother's file to her chest   
and scrambling over rocks, and even though she slipped occasionally, she did not   
slow down or look for an easier way. Jarod was still disturbed by her   
hysterical crying earlier, and kept a close eye on her as they went, unsure of   
her mental state. He tried to help her several times, however she just shook   
him off and kept going.  
  
Finally they reached the top, where the ground levelled out, and they   
walked back to the barn along the dirt track they had come in on, now thick with   
mud. They dashed the rest of the way, hurrying into the barn and out of the   
rain. Water still dripped down in places, because of the holes in the roof,   
however the back end of the barn was almost completely dry. Parker came to a   
halt suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering. Jarod pointed to   
a pile of old sticks in the corner.  
  
"Do you want to get a fire started? I brought some supplies in case we needed   
to stay the night, I'll just get them out of the jeep," he said.  
  
"Can't we go back?" Miss Parker said, sounding miserable, and regretfully he   
shook his head.  
  
"We'd get bogged in all that mud. It may not be the best accommodation, but at   
least we'll stay dry."  
  
Parker said nothing, just placing her sodden file on the ground and   
wandering off in the direction of the woodpile. Jarod watched her for a moment,   
a frown marring his features, then shrugged to himself and turned away. He   
dashed back out the jeep, rummaging through his supplies and taking what he   
needed. He made several trips to get it all inside the barn, and by the time he   
had brought the last of it in, Miss Parker had a small but cheerful fire going.   
The holes in the roof allowed the smoke to escape, so there was no chance of   
them getting smoked out, and it gave them a little warmth and comfort.  
  
"Aren't you just a regular boy scout?" Parker said dryly, watching him drag all   
his supplies over. He flashed her a quick grin.  
  
"Always be prepared," he said.  
  
First he set up a small tripod of metal rods over the fire, hanging a   
billy full of water from it. Then he pulled out a couple of sleeping bags and a   
large foam mat, about an inch thick. He was setting these up close to the fire,   
when he looked up and stopped suddenly. Miss Parker had grabbed one of the   
blankets he had brought in, had kicked off her boots and was now struggling to   
get out of the top she had been wearing. She had it over her head, but was   
fighting to get the wet material off her arms.  
  
"Here," Jarod said huskily, going to kneel beside her, "Let me help."  
  
Miss Parker stopped struggling, and he helped to slide the wet material   
over her skin, so she could pull it off her arms and over her head, leaving her   
in just her bra and jeans. Her gaze met his, and he shivered slightly as she   
arched her back. Her hands went to her jeans, and she undid the buttons slowly.   
She stood up, so his face was on level with her crotch, and slid the jeans off   
her hips, stepping out of them. Jarod took a deep breath, letting it out on the   
soft skin of her thighs, so her skin puckered with goosebumps.   
  
"You should get out of your wet things too," Miss Parker said huskily, stepping   
away from him, "You don't want to catch a cold."  
  
Jarod rose to his feet jerkily, turning back to the fire as the billy   
began to boil. With a metal hook, he took it off the fire, sitting cross-legged   
on the dirt. He poured half of the water into a tin bowl, and added tea leaves   
to the rest. To the bowl he added a little cold water, and thrust it at Miss   
Parker, who was now sitting with the blanket wrapped around her.  
  
"You can wash up a bit, if you want," he said gruffly, not meeting her gaze as   
she accepted the bowl.  
  
He tried to concentrate on making tea and warming some soup in a pot he   
hung off the tripod, but could not help looking up in time to see Parker rubbing   
warm water over her face and the tops of her breasts, where they were not   
covered by the bra.   
  
He shivered, starting to feel the cold. He unbuttoned his shirt and jeans,   
shedding them and his boots in favour of another blanket. He took both of their   
clothes and spread them out over the half-fallen down rail of a nearby pen, and   
set their boots close to the fire to dry.  
  
"Soups ready," he said a few moments later, dividing it evenly between two large   
tin cups. Miss Parker accepted hers without comment, holding it between her   
hands and close to her face. Jarod mimicked her, and watched her intently,   
"Don't you have anything to say?"  
  
"Like what?" Parker said bitterly, "Hey Jarod, my mother probably went into this   
whole thing knowingly, how was your day?"  
  
"Parker..." Jarod said in gentle rebuff, "You and I both know that your mother   
would *never* have participated in something as inhuman as cloning."  
  
"I know," she sighed softly.  
  
"She thought she was infertile... she thought this was her chance to have a   
child. You know she loved you," Jarod said.  
  
"You think so?" Miss Parker asked, sounding incredibly vulnerable and insecure.  
  
"Of course," Jarod said, smiling, "She loved you. If she were here today, she'd   
tell you that right now. It doesn't matter about your DNA, or where you came   
from, you are her daughter. She *loves* you."  
  
"Thankyou Jarod," Parker said, smiling into her soup.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Even breathing hurts, Lyle thought to himself. He could hear the sound of   
cars pulling up outside the quaint farmhouse where he had found September, and   
knew it had to be his father, Raines and several sweepers. He wished now he   
hadn't gone on ahead. Maybe they might not have arrived in time, but then he   
wouldn't have had the crap beaten out of him by another one of the clones.  
  
Sitting up gingerly, Lyle heard the front door bang open, and the sound of   
sweepers rampaging through the house. One appeared in the doorway, Willie, and   
looked at Lyle without emotion.  
  
"Sir?" he asked.  
  
"They're gone," Lyle said, shaking his head. His father appeared a moment   
later, looking sternly down at him.  
  
"Lyle! Did Jarod do this to you, son?" Mr Parker asked. Lyle winced, and shook   
his head, climbing to his feet and wiping the blood from his mouth as Raines   
wheezed into the room.  
  
"The clones. One of the goddamn clones did it," he growled.  
  
"The Distinction clones?" his father asked, alarmed.  
  
"You mean a *woman* did this to you?" Raines asked  
  
"TWO of the clones did. They... ganged up on me," he improvised, "They were   
waiting in ambush for me, and they wanted blood."  
  
He touched the lump on the back of his head from where the other one, he   
wasn't sure which month she was, had hit him with a fry pan. He had been   
delighted when he realised September was there, thinking she was alone. He had   
not even thought about the fact that she might have teamed up with another one   
of them.  
  
"I thought the transmission came from Jarod?" Mr Parker asked gruffly.  
  
"That's what I thought too!" Lyle said, shrugging, "Why would the clones be in   
contact with Sydney?"  
  
"Would you like me to find out, sir?" Willie asked, a dangerous gleam in his   
eye.  
  
"We could take him to Renewal..." Raines said.  
  
"No!" Mr Parker said curtly, holding up one hand, "I don't want Sydney to know   
that we're on to him, not while he could still be useful in finding Jarod."  
  
"Sir," another faceless sweeper interrupted, emerging from the hall, "We've   
searched the house. All four occupants are gone."  
  
Lyle, Mr Parker and Raines all turned to look at him in surprise   
simultaneously.   
  
"Four?" Lyle asked. The sweeper looked nervous.  
  
"Yes sir. From the looks of it - three females and a male."  
  
  
****  
  
  
"You know," Jarod said, "I can't help but wonder why... why your mother? Why   
twelve?" he asked.  
  
The fire was now burning low, and they were sitting side by side on the   
bedding he had set up. Miss Parker took another sip of her tea, her third for   
the evening. "Who knows?" she asked, and picked up the still damp file from the   
offices below, "Why clone anybody? Why twelve, why not twenty-four?"  
  
"Yes, but why choose to raise you like that? Why give a clone to the original   
as her own child?" he asked, "Why raise you as a somewhat normal child?"  
  
"Maybe daddy got sick of Mama trying," Miss Parker said in sad reflection.  
  
She paged through the file again, and then shook her head. Slowly, one   
page at a time, she began to feed the file into the fire, everything except the   
picture. Jarod watched her watch it burn, noting the darkly satisfied look on   
her face.  
  
"You know... I don't know for sure that I'm not a clone," he said softly. Miss   
Parker just shrugged.  
  
"Why? Afraid that mythical family unit of yours might not be your family at   
all?" she asked flatly, then sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm being negative, and you   
don't deserve it. You've done nothing but help me."  
  
"I like helping you," Jarod said, taking her hand. He ran his thumb over the   
backs of her knuckles gently, and she smiled.  
  
"When you were a kid, you liked getting me in trouble," she said.  
  
"I got *you* in trouble?" Jarod laughed incredulously, "I recall it being the   
other way around!"  
  
"Whatever," Miss Parker said breezily, and smiled. There was a short silence,   
and then, "Even after all these years, we still wind up together."  
  
"Yeah," Jarod said tenderly, "Fate just seems to keep drawing us together, no   
matter what."  
  
Miss Parker chewed her lip for a while, lost in thought. Jarod touched   
her chin gently, and she looked at him. He tilted his head thoughtfully, "I   
know you're never going to say sorry for all the years you've hunted me," he   
said, "But can we at least put it behind us for now? The hate, the anger?"  
  
"Yeah," she said after a long moment, "I suppose we can."  
  
Jarod nodded, taking his hand away. For a long time they stared into the   
flickering fire, saying nothing. Soon the fire had burned dangerously low, and   
Jarod stood up, pulling his blanket around himself. He went over to the pile of   
wood in the corner, bringing back several decent sized sticks, which he threw on   
the fire. He circled the bedding, sinking to his knees behind Miss Parker, who   
tried to crane her head to look at him curiously.  
  
"Relax," he murmured, allowing his blanket to drop from his hands.  
  
Gently he placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging away the tension he   
found there. Parker remained stiff for a moment, then relaxed into his   
ministrations, her head dropping forward. Jarod smiled to himself, shuffling   
forward so his knees were on either side of her, and continued to work on the   
muscles in her back, gently stroking and kneading. The blanket slipped slowly   
away, so he was working on bare skin. On an even swipe across her shoulders, he   
pushed her bra straps out of the way, before concentrating on her shoulders.  
  
Parker let out a soft sound of appreciation, and he leant forward, placing   
a chaste kiss on the curve of one shoulder blade, and he heard a soft hitch in   
her breathing. He stroked her hair up against her head, holding it there with   
one hand, and began to trail tiny kisses up her spine, to the nape of her neck,   
and around to her ear.  
  
"Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked huskily, and he nipped gently at her   
earlobe.  
  
"Maybe..." he murmured.  
  
She raised her hands, covering his hand where it rested on the back of her   
head, and he took the opportunity to loop his free arm around her waist, pulling   
her firmly towards him, so her back was pressed against his bare chest. Her   
hands slipped to the sides of his head as he bent his face to kiss the place   
where her shoulder became neck.  
  
"Is it working?" he asked.  
  
"Maybe..." she whispered breathily, and he chuckled.  
  
He brought both hands to settle on her stomach, still holding her against   
him, splaying his hands across her taut abdomen, still kissing all the skin he   
could reach. He rocked up onto his knees slightly, forcing her to rise up with   
him, so she could feel the hard length of his erection, only his cotton boxers   
and her silk panties between them. She groaned, rolling her head back onto his   
shoulder, and he attacked the length of her neck with wet, hungry kisses. He   
pulled her back even further, so when he relaxed back to sitting on his knees   
again she was practically on his lap, his erection nestled between her buttocks.  
  
"Jarod? January?"  
  
Jarod swore softly, releasing her instantly, and Miss Parker slid forward,   
off his lap, pulling her bra straps up. Jarod tossed a glance over his   
shoulder, seeing a slight figure struggling with the barn door, and quickly   
grabbed Miss Parker's blanket and draped it across her shoulders, dropping his   
own across his lap just as December and September emerged into the light of the   
fire.  
  
"What happened?" Miss Parker asked, and September let out a soft sob, dropping   
to her knees in front of Miss Parker and burying her face in her neck. Parker   
held the sobbing woman with surprise, raising her gaze to look at December, who   
was pacing angrily.  
  
"Your *contacts*, in the Centre, whoever they were, must have given the game   
away. They found us!" she growled, then stopped suddenly as she noticed Jarod   
and Miss Parker's state of undress, "What the fuck happened to you?"  
  
"We got a bit wet," Jarod said, and wished he hadn't as Miss Parker suddenly   
flushed and looked down. September raised her face tearfully.  
  
"It was... it was HIM!" she said.  
  
"Who?" Parker demanded, wiping the tears off her face. September hiccoughed.  
  
"Him!" December roared, "Bobby! That one-thumbed son of a bitch who fucking   
*tormented* September!"  
  
Jarod went cold.  
  
"What did you say his name was?" he asked.   
  
"Bobby," September mumbled. Miss Parker blanched.  
  
"Oh my god," she whispered.  
  
"What?" asked December, resuming her pacing.  
  
"Bobby... Bobby is the given name of..." Parker gave Jarod a beseeching look,   
while December looked back and forth between them. September raised her head.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Bobby is the given name of Miss Parker's twin brother. Lyle is a pseudonym he   
uses, and what we know him as, but Bobby is his real name," Jarod said softly,   
"The yakuza took his thumb off several years ago."  
  
December looked sick.  
  
"You mean... he's *blood*? He's related?" she hissed. He nodded slowly, and   
September suddenly put her hand over her mouth and bolted in the direction of a   
dark corner. December gave them another despairing look, and then hurried after   
her.  
  
"That sick bastard," Miss Parker said, and Jarod grimaced at the sounds of   
September being sick. Parker stared at him, looking shocked, "I'm going to kill   
him. I'm going to take his damn head off."  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was after midnight by the time September was feeling better. Miss   
Parker and Jarod had hastily pulled on their almost-dry clothes, not making eye   
contact as they had dropped their blankets and dressed. Jarod had dashed once   
more out into the rain, scrounging around in the back of the jeep until he had   
found several more thick blankets and another large mat. Parker watched with a   
sense of surrealism as he set the bedding up close to the fire. December and   
September were now sitting on the sleeping bags, and Parker had the sinking   
feeling that she and Jarod were going to end up sharing the blankets for the   
night. December seemed to have assumed that they were an item, an assumption   
well based on the fact that she had seen them not only emerge from Jarod's   
bedroom together the night before, but found them both in his bed that morning.  
  
When Jarod looked up at her with a gentle smile she returned it flatly,   
sitting mechanically beside him and putting out her hands to warm them on the   
fire. She still found it almost impossible to believe that Lyle, whom she had   
believed to be her brother, her *twin* brother, was September's tormentor and   
rapist. She knew he had expressed desire for her, and that he was a little   
mentally off-kilter, but still... that degree of sadism was beyond   
comprehension.  
  
"Why don't you tell us what happened at the house?" Jarod asked, and Parker   
shook her head slightly to clear her tangled thoughts.  
  
"There was a message on you laptop, from somebody named CJ, telling us that the   
Centre knew our location and to run," September said, staring into her mug.  
  
"Angelo," Jarod said softly, nodding for her to continue.  
  
"He... was alone. Just walked in the door. He thought I was you," September   
said, nodding at Miss Parker, "And then... I turned around and he recognised   
me... god, he was so *happy* to see me..."  
  
She trailed off bitterly, tears trailing down her cheeks. December rubbed   
her back soothingly. "I came downstairs and found him harassing her. I beat   
the shit out of him. We left," she said bluntly. Jarod nodded.  
  
"Sydney and Broots wouldn't have given us away," Miss Parker said firmly, "Lyle   
must have traced our transmission today. We'll have to warn them."  
  
Jarod patted down his pockets, and then turned to a knapsack he had   
brought in from the jeep, pulling out his cell phone. He held it up to the   
light of the fire, tilting it to see. He frowned. "No service. We'll call   
from the first phone booth we come to on the way out tomorrow," he said.  
  
"And where do we go tomorrow?" September asked softly.  
  
"Away. Anywhere. We'll go," Miss Parker said.  
  
"We'll keep searching for the others," Jarod said.  
  
December shook her head. "No. It's too dangerous for now. They know   
we've found each other, they know we're in the country. Any move we make and   
they'll be onto us. We need time, space, we need to let things die down a   
little," she said sadly. September nodded, looking appealingly to Miss Parker.  
  
"Come with us. New names, new lives. We can start again, just the three of   
us," she whispered.  
  
Miss Parker looked back and forth between the two women. Could she call   
them sisters? Her fellow clones, wanting to get away, go underground, and   
wanting her to go with them. They had pointedly excluded Jarod, and she   
realised he had not missed this fact, staring silently down into his lap. While   
they trusted him, they did not feel he belonged with them.  
  
"No," she murmured, "I think I'll travel with Jarod a little more, just until I   
get the hang of life on the run. Then... I'll go out on my own."  
  
Jarod said nothing, but smiled a little.  
  
  
****  
  
  
It was late before they got to bed, as they stayed up talking and   
planning. The fire was burning low as December and September crawled into their   
separate sleeping bags. Jarod, on the other side of the fire, couldn't see them   
very well in the shadows, but could hear the faint sounds of them whispering.   
He turned away from them, only to see Miss Parker peeling off her jeans once   
more.  
  
Jarod ducked his head, turning to the side slightly. He took off his own   
jeans quickly, shivering in the chill night air, and hung them up again, as they   
were still slightly damp. He shucked off his flannel shirt, so he was wearing   
only cotton boxers. Shyly, he held out the shirt to Miss Parker, keeping his   
eyes focused on the ground.  
  
"You can wear this to bed, if you like," he said huskily, and she accepted it   
with a small murmur of thanks.  
  
Jarod crawled under the blankets, leaving enough room for Miss Parker on   
the side closest to the fire. He laid his head on the blanket he had folded up   
to serve as a pillow, watching her through slitted eyes. Parker hung up her   
jeans too, and stood in front of the fire as she pulled off her shirt, a golden   
silhouette. She turned away as she unclipped her bra, but as she pulled on his   
much larger shirt, Jarod caught sight of the profile of one high, firm breast.   
He closed his eyes quickly, and turned his face, but the image was burned into   
his mind.  
  
The blankets shifted and lifted as she slid in beside him, and he heard   
her sighing and rustling about, trying to get comfortable. He concentrated on   
keeping his breathing deep and even, turning on his side with his back to her   
and pulling the blankets up over his shoulder, but the bed was narrow and he   
could still sense her presence behind him. It was much nicer, he decided, when   
she slept in his arms, like the night before, rather than with this enforced and   
uncomfortable distance.  
  
  
****  
  
  
They left early the next morning. September sat quietly in the car,   
watching Jarod and Parker loading their gear into the jeep. After her encounter   
with Bobby, she had decided she would rather stay up all night than leave   
herself vulnerable to the nightmares that would surely come. Long after the   
others had all drifted off to sleep, she had crawled out of her bed and sat by   
the fire, fighting exhaustion.  
  
She found her eyes lingering on Jarod, on his easy strength as he lugged   
everything from inside the barn out to the jeep. He was very handsome, she   
decided, and very kind, but she was still wary. She wasn't sure she could ever   
trust a man again, not after Bobby. He had been sweet too, and very charming,   
at least in the beginning. Nobody had ever paid attention to her like Bobby   
had, and she'd been so lonely at Alkina. He'd brought her flowers once, a   
bouquet of gardenias. She had been surprised and flattered by his continuing   
attentions - it was obvious that he was expending considerable effort in order   
to see her as often as he did. But, even from the start, something had seemed a   
little intense about his focus on her, a slight edge of hunger in his approach   
to her.  
  
September's mind shied away from what had happened later. It didn't bear   
thinking about, after all this time. Briefly she brushed a hand over her smooth   
abdomen, recalling the terrible pain, the blood and the agony of knowing; the   
child, she was losing the child...  
  
"Ready?" December asked, leaning close to the window, and September jumped a   
little.  
  
"Ready," she said, and smiled tremulously. She was ready to start a new life;   
ready to move on.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"No, no, I want to choose," September said firmly.  
  
They were at a small diner in the outer skirts of Douglas, a town a few   
hours out of Phoenix and close enough to the Mexican border to spit to the other   
side. The day had dawned bright and hot, and Miss Parker felt just a little   
warm in her simple tank top and jeans. December had a baseball cap pulled low   
over her face, in an attempt to hide the fact that the three of them happened to   
look an awful lot alike. Not all of their features were the same, but enough so   
that they drew startled glances on the street.  
  
"You don't want to keep your name?" Jarod asked, very surprised.  
  
September and December's decision to lay low for a while had prompted   
Jarod to suggest he create fake identities for them, so they could move in   
society with more ease. They were discussing their new identities over a greasy   
bowl of chips - which only Jarod was eating.  
  
"Would you want a name that's taken from the month you were born in? A name   
that identifies you as a clone?" December asked scornfully. Jarod looked   
aghast.  
  
Parker smiled a little to herself. Jarod's name was sacred to him, part   
of the identity that had been taken from him so long ago, and he was obviously   
having problems coming to terms with the fact that a name wasn't as important to   
everybody as it was to him.  
  
"I think I want to be a Veronica," September said dreamily. December rolled her   
eyes.  
  
"Alright Veronica. I'll be Charlie," December said.  
  
"As in, short for Charlotte?" Jarod asked, writing them down. December wrinkled   
her nose.  
  
"Hell no. Just Charlie, short for nothing!"  
  
"My mother's maiden name was Jaimeson," Miss Parker said impulsively, "Maybe you   
could be Charlie and Veronica Jaimeson..."  
  
December, September and Jarod all paused to look at her, and she shrugged.   
"She is what we came from," she said huskily. She rummaged in her bag, digging   
until she retrieved the photograph she had rescued from her mother's file. She   
slid it across the table towards September and December.  
  
Neither of them said anything for a very long time. They both studied the   
photo in absolute silence, their faces pinched and slightly hungry. Then, when   
September sat back, December touched two fingers to the very edge of the   
photograph and slid it back across the table.  
  
"Thank you, but no. We need something of our own. Jarod, I trust you to pick   
something at random, please," December said very quietly.  
  
Jarod nodded, and took the photograph off the table.  
  
  
****  
  
  
The end, it seemed, came upon them quicker than any of them could imagine.   
Jarod had called Sydney and advised him that he and Broots were in danger due to   
the Centre being aware of their contact, Centre accounts had been raided once   
more for funds, and there was little left for them to do as a group, asides from   
saying goodbye.  
  
The four of them stood in a bus terminal, three gazing at each other with   
emotion, while Jarod stared at the ground. He knew that two thirds of the   
clones division standing under the Greyhound sign tolerated him, and only   
because of what he could provide.  
  
It wasn't that September and December had been hostile, Jarod mused, they   
just hadn't been incredibly welcoming. They had only travelled to America with   
him because of his assurances that Miss Parker was one of them. He couldn't   
quite pin their attitude towards him on a distrust of all males in general,   
although there was certainly an element of that. Instead he had come to realise   
that they were jealous of his involvement with Miss Parker, and extremely   
protective of her.  
  
"Come with us!" September said plaintively.   
  
"I can't," Miss Parker replied softly, "I need to see the world on my own. I   
need to find my own footing. But we'll keep in contact. And when it's safer,   
we'll find the others."  
  
Jarod stared at a piece of gum stuck to the floor. He had delved once   
more into the Centre's mainframe that morning, and was now aware that they were   
on the look out for three clones and himself travelling together. Pretty soon   
they would realise they weren't together, and the search would intensify.   
Together, they held a dangerous amount of knowledge about the Centre and it's   
practises; a danger the Centre would do everything in its power to have   
nullified. Just quietly, he feared that if December and September were ever   
recaptured, they would be killed instantly.  
  
Not September and December, they were now Charlie and Veronica Bell, he   
reminded himself. They had enough false documents to allow them to travel   
without arousing suspicions for the time being. He would later send more   
concrete identification to a neutral postal box, once he was sure none of them   
were being followed.  
  
"I'm... I'm going to miss you," Charlie/December said stiffly, obviously   
uncomfortable with voicing her emotions so openly.  
  
"I know," Miss Parker said.  
  
They all hugged, and Jarod carefully kept his eyes averted, watching buses   
being loaded and unloaded. Finally they separated, and Veronica/September was   
scrubbing tears from her cheeks   
  
"Okay," she said.  
  
Abruptly, Veronica and Charlie turned around and walked away. They didn't   
look back, simply disappeared into the crowds. Miss Parker turned to face   
Jarod, looking pained.  
  
"They have a noticeable lack of social graces," she said wryly. Jarod shrugged.  
"Isolation does that to you."  
  
He held out his hand, and Miss Parker took it, smiling slightly, and   
slowly they walked out of the terminal.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Miss Parker missed her home. She hadn't really thought about it in the   
days since Jarod had nabbed her, but it was forming like an ache in her chest   
now that things had slowed down. She stood at the window of the small, seedy   
motel room they had rented, flipping a dime over her fingers rapidly.  
  
"We could go north-west... San Francisco? Seattle? LA is too crushing..."   
Jarod was saying absently. He had a road map of America spread over the little   
rickety desk, and while his questions were directed at her, she didn't feel he   
was really focusing on her.  
  
She realised, sadly, that she didn't even have a photograph of Dante, her   
little brother; the chirpy little boy who had been a shimmering moment of light   
in each day. She supposed he would forget her in time - grow up with a cold and   
distant father and memories of a loving, blue-eyed woman the same way she had.   
And she hadn't turned out so bad...  
  
"I've never been to Oklahoma," Jarod was saying, and raised his face to her   
distractedly as she turned around, "Do you have a preference?"  
  
"You know," Miss Parker said slowly, ponderously, "I don't think I've ever been   
this alone before."  
  
Jarod opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then closed it again,   
staring at her mutely. Parker continued to flip the dime over the tops of her   
knuckles, pondering what she had said, the implications. She shook her head.  
  
"I'm all alone," she said.  
  
"You have..." Jarod trailed off. He didn't need to finish the sentence - 'You   
have me.'  
  
"No support network. No Sydney, no Broots, no background or family power. It's   
all gone," Miss Parker said.   
  
The dime slipped from suddenly numb fingers, falling to the floor.  
  
"Maybe it's time you were on your own," Jarod said quietly, staring down at his   
map, "Where would you like to go, Miss Parker? Or do you just want me to create   
an identity for you so you can go?"  
  
She'd hurt him, she realised. She hadn't meant to. She'd just been   
thinking that everything she had ever known, every truth she'd built her life   
upon, was gone. She had nothing now. She had to begin with nothing. Just   
Jarod, giving her a helping hand. Maybe that she was all she needed.  
  
"We'll go wherever you want to go," she said with a smile, and Jarod looked a   
little better about things.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Jarod was awakened in the middle of the night by strange dreams, full of   
fear and shadows, that seemed to all revolve around the ringing of a cell phone.   
It was only once he sat up in bed, panting heavily, that he realised his cell   
phone *was* ringing, which was what had been interfering with his dreams.  
  
He leant over the side of the bed, digging in the pocket of his leather   
jacket until he found the phone and flicking it upon. "Jarod," he said   
groggily. The adjoining door between his and Miss Parker's room, left slightly   
ajar, was pushed open all the way and her shadowy figure leaned in the doorway,   
watching him.  
  
"Ja-Jarod?" came a soft, hesitant voice.  
  
"Broots?" Jarod asked incredulously. Miss Parker gave him a look of surprise,   
coming into the room as he asked, "How did you get this number?"  
  
"I, uh, well, I trapped the signal from the call you made to Sydney... you-you   
must be getting careless..." Broots gave a short, hysterical laugh, and then   
went quiet suddenly.  
  
"What is it, Broots?" Jarod asked, sensing urgency in the other man's tone.  
  
"Well, Sydney and I, we're getting out, you know, it's just not safe anymore,   
and I've got Debbie to consider and everything, and well, I had a bit of money   
saved up, so I'll be leaving Delaware tomorrow, but well..." Broots' rambling   
trailed off abruptly.  
  
Miss Parker had come to sit on the bed beside Jarod, watching his   
reactions carefully, and she gave him a questioning look, to which Jarod   
shrugged. "I wish you the best of luck then, and I hope we can stay in   
contact... is everything alright?" he asked, and there was a long silence on the   
line.  
  
"Well, the last thing I'd been doing at the Centre was searching some of the   
Centre archives for that project you mentioned, the Distinction Project, and I'd   
been focusing in the archives from around the middle of the century, cause you   
know, that's when everything big and bad *really* went down in the Centre, but-"  
  
"The point, Broots," Jarod interrupted, and Broots took a deep breath.  
  
"Well, the thing is, I did turn up something, but more recently than I had   
expected," Broots said, lowering his voice, and Jarod could almost imagine him   
looking around in paranoia, "And I found a reference to the Distinction Project   
in a file called Vita Nuova, so I pulled it, and it, well... it's Dante's file,   
Jarod. Miss Parker's little brother."  
  
Jarod felt his breath slowing down. He licked his lips carefully,   
flicking a glance at Parker, who was watching him intently, then looking away   
quickly. "Dante?" he asked, and saw Miss Parker's fist clench on the bed.  
  
"In the file they refer to him as the Twelfth Distinction: Factor Male, and   
there are several references to techniques used in the Distinction Project and-"   
Broots continued.  
  
"Whose? Whose clone?" Jarod demanded, and heard the other man gulp.  
  
"Yours, Jarod. I compared the DNA and it's identical," Broots whispered   
miserably, "He's your clone."  
  
**** 


	6. Part 6

****  
  
  
The Twelfth Distinction. Male Factor. He knew about the female factor.   
They were the Months, the twelve, of which Miss Parker was the first. It seemed   
to make sense, in a strange way. A trial run. Take a reasonably intelligent,   
good-looking woman with no genetic defects, such as Catharine Parker, and see   
how her clones turned out. Twelve, all in a run. Raise them in different   
environments, different countries, and they'd be mildly useful too - lab rats,   
good for experiments and tests and even a little Pretending, and hell, one was   
even good enough to be the Chairman's daughter. But really, they only existed   
to see if they could *do* it. And of course, knowing they *could* didn't mean   
they would be able to every time... how many failed foetuses were produced   
before Gemini was born...?  
  
Which led into a whole new series of questions. What number was Gemini?   
How far apart were the births of these clones spaced? If Dante was the twelfth,   
where were the others? Jarod only knew of one other; Gemini.  
  
Of course, he thought, there was always the possibility that he himself   
was one of the twelve. The first, maybe not even that. What if he had never   
come from a mother and father at all? What if they were only the surrogates,   
and somewhere out there existed a template, just like Catharine Parker?  
  
"Oh God..." he moaned.  
  
"Jarod, you need to sit down, your breathing has become erratic," Miss Parker   
said, as though from a great distance.  
  
Jarod stopped what he was doing, only then realising that he had been   
pacing furiously. Feeling foggy, he focused on Miss Parker, who was sitting on   
his bed in just her robe, his cell phone in her hand. He supposed she must have   
finished the phone call for him - he couldn't remember anything else Broots had   
said, or even if he had given the phone to Parker or simply dropped it. Shaking   
his head, Jarod went to sit beside her on the bed, not thinking anything of the   
fact that they were both in their pyjamas, sitting in a dark room in the middle   
of the night. Somehow it made sense that their path in life would lead them   
here, right here.  
  
"Am I a clone? Where are they? Who has them, what are they doing to them?" he   
asked, all in a rush, and Miss Parker just shook her head.  
  
"I don't know," she whispered.  
  
"It's so much bigger than I ever imagined! Twelve of you and twelve of me..."   
he trailed of, his breathing echoing harshly.  
  
"Jarod, you're going to hyperventilate," Miss Parker said calmly, and her hand   
stroked down his back in a soothing motion.  
  
Blindly he turned to her, curling his arms around her as she drew him into   
her embrace, and his harsh, erratic breathing evolved into soft sobs. He buried   
his face in her neck, shuddering with the force of his grief. In the back of   
his mind he was grateful that she was there, to hold him in such a strangely   
maternal way, and he clung to her all the more tightly.  
  
  
****  
  
  
In the morning, Miss Parker opened her eyes, giving a slight start of   
surprise at the face that loomed over hers. Jarod blinked at her sudden jerk,   
but didn't move away, and she touched a hand to her chest, trying to calm her   
thumping heart.  
  
"Jesus Jarod, you scared me," she muttered, offering a nervous smile that faded   
in the face of his seriousness.  
  
He had cried for a long time in the night, holding her close all the   
while. Somehow they had drifted into the position of lying on the bed together,   
his body half covering hers and his face in her neck as his sobs had faded into   
soft hiccoughs. Finally his breathing had evened out, and his body relaxed   
against her. He was heavy, and she had had to wiggle around a bit, but   
eventually they were arranged so they moulded naturally together, and his full   
weight was not on her.  
  
Now he lay on his side beside her, resting his head on his hand and   
leaning very close. The only sign of his tears the night before was a slight   
puffiness around his eyes, otherwise he looked fully alert and refreshed.   
Parker's gaze skittered briefly down to his bare, muscular chest, the dark curls   
there and his flat brown nipples. She met his gaze again, so calm and serious,   
and licked her lips. Was he going to kiss her?  
  
"He can't stay there," he said.  
  
It took Parker a minute to figure out what he was talking about, and she   
took in a sharp breath when she did. "We can't *take* him, Jarod. How could   
either of us look after a baby?" she asked.  
  
"We can't leave him there," Jarod implored.  
  
Miss Parker hesitated. She hoped that Jarod wasn't thinking they could   
take him *together* and look after him *together*, because while she loved   
Dante, a ready-made family unit just didn't appeal to her at this time. At one   
stage she had thought about having children, had even seen it as a part of her   
future when she was with Tommy... but a baby on the run? Her, Jarod and a baby,   
on the run? Ridiculous!  
  
"We can't let him grow up like we did..." Jarod said, and she shook her head   
impatiently.  
  
"Daddy raised me and I turned out fine-" she began.  
  
"Your mother raised you, and Dante won't be raised like you were," Jarod   
interrupted, and she could see the first hint of anger in his eyes, "They were   
hiding him in plain sight, but only for so long. You know, Miss Parker, you   
*know* that if he's a Pretender, it's only a matter of time before they isolate   
him and begin the training..."  
  
She did know. Dante's upbringing so far had probably been influenced by   
Jarod's actions with Gemini before the baby was born - the Centre must have   
realised that if a clone were secreted away within the Centre itself, then Jarod   
would find and free the child. A child raised and treated as the Chairman's son   
- that, Jarod would let go. She wondered when they had intended to take the   
child away from the Centre, and all right under their noses.  
  
"The three of us, together? It would be so dangerous..." she said anxiously.  
  
Jarod rolled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his   
back to her. "Then you take him, alone. Raise him, like your mother raised   
you. At least then he will know love," he said softly.  
  
With his quiet confidence, Miss Parker didn't have the heart to tell him   
she didn't think she was capable. Dante was a beautiful child, and she truly   
loved him, but she didn't think she could handle raising and supporting a child   
at the same time as being on the run - which she surely would be for a long   
time. The Centre would not stop looking for her while she had the child, not   
ever.  
  
"We'll get him then," she said, feeling immeasurably sad, "We'll take him.   
He'll be free."  
  
She didn't tell him that, when the time came, Dante would not be   
travelling with her.  
  
  
****  
  
  
The next couple of days passed in a haze. With the decision to rescue   
Dante came an unlikely sort of calm - they no longer needed to hesitate or   
ponder over every decision - things were simply done, and with unspoken   
communication, they organised themselves for the trip. The fact that they would   
be travelling across the country by road was a foregone conclusion, catching a   
plane would be too dangerous, what with the close call in Nevada. Jarod spent a   
lot of his time in front of the computer, uploading a lot of the personal   
information he had collected over time to a secure server, so that they could   
dispose of their computers. Once that was done, he informed Miss Parker, he   
would find all he could on Dante on the Centre's mainframe.  
  
Miss Parker was in charge of transport. She drove their jeep to a nearby   
used car yard, exchanging it for a hefty check, which supplemented the money   
Jarod had given her. She was perusing the cars in the yard, looking for   
something a bit sleeker and sportier, when she happened to glance across the   
road. She grinned in glee, knowing she had found exactly what they were looking   
for.  
  
When she pulled up outside the motel almost two hours later, she saw the   
curtains in the window of Jarod's room flutter, before his door opened and he   
emerged, blinking in the sunlight, with a mild look of surprise. "I didn't   
think you were the type," he said.  
  
Parker removed her helmet and grinned, checking the kickstand was secure   
before climbing off the Harley. She shook out her hair, tucking the helmet   
under her arm, not missing the way Jarod's gaze ran appreciatively over her new   
figure-hugging leather pants and jacket.  
  
"Yeah, well, you should never try and 'type' someone, Jarod. FLHR Road King,   
twin cam 88 engine, electronic fuel injection and triple disc brakes..." she   
said with a smirk. She opened up on of the fibreglass saddlebags, tossing him a   
helmet and a paper bag containing leathers and boots for him, "Are you impressed   
yet?"   
  
  
****  
  
  
Miss Parker came to regret buying the bike. Taking turns to drive, she   
spent several days in a row either pressed close against Jarod, or with him   
pressed close to her, the skin-tight leather meaning they felt each muscle   
moving against one another. By the time they made it to Maryland, only a   
stone's throw away from the Delaware border, Miss Parker was beginning to look   
at Jarod in a whole new light.  
  
He was male, after all. A very attractive male, and she was very   
decidedly female, a female who hadn't had male companionship in too long. And   
every day she spent clinging to his back, her arms around him, her hands on his   
broad chest, or holding his lean hips, resting on his muscular thighs, everyday   
she spent pressed close to him or with him pressed close to her was another day   
where she found her resolve slowly weakening.  
  
A relationship was out of the question. But surely that didn't mean they   
couldn't have *something*?  
  
  
****  
  
  
In the depths of the Centre, chaos was erupting. Lyle, Raines and Mr   
Parker stood impassively over Dante, a small, frightened child who was crying   
for comfort. Lyle studied the child for features of the man he would become - a   
Pretender. But Dante was not showing incredible genius as he sat on the floor,   
rubbing his eyes with curled fists, his cheeks stained with tears. Dante looked   
like a cute little boy, who was very afraid.  
  
Although he searched his heart, Lyle found no compassion.  
  
"The techie and Sydney have gone," Raines rasped angrily, "Jarod must know about   
the Distinction Project, including Miss Parker's involvement."  
  
"It is only a matter of time before he learns of Vita Nuova," Lyle said, his   
lips thinning angrily. This should never have happened. The Months should   
never have found each other. He touched a cut on the side of his face gingerly   
and grimaced.  
  
"My daughter will not allow Jarod to capture Dante," Mr Parker said confidently.  
  
"You *must* consider the possibility that she is no longer a captive... and   
perhaps never was," Raines said angrily. Lyle nodded.  
  
"Dad, there were no signs of restraints in the house in Nevada..."  
  
They all looked up as a timid-looking woman shuffled into the room. She   
held out an envelope to the Chairman, who looked through her as he took it, not   
bothering to say any thanks. She disappeared back into the gloom, and Lyle   
watched her with interest. Mr Parker opened the envelope, withdrawing two   
Polaroids. "What do you call this then, hey?" he harrumphed.  
  
The pictures were of Miss Parker and Jarod, with Miss Parker tied to a   
chair and looking scared, furious and bruised. Jarod stood over her, rumpled   
and edgy. In the first Polaroid he held a national newspaper, the headlines   
Lyle recognised from a few days ago. In the second Polaroid, Jarod held a   
cardboard sign - 'Give me my family and you'll get yours.'  
  
Mr Parker tucked them into the breast pocket of his suit, setting his   
mouth grimly. "My daughter is still a captive. But she's smart, and as soon as   
Jarod or the clones turn their backs on her for one minute she'll be free. And   
I trust her to do the right thing," he said, and eyed Dante, "In the meantime, I   
suggest we get the child into Africa and out of harm's way. Who knows what   
stunt Jarod will pull next. It's obvious the boy has gone mad."  
  
Lyle gazed at the child thoughtfully. He decided he might volunteer to   
accompany the infant himself; he had recently discovered there was a woman named   
June in Cairo, whom he wouldn't mind paying a visit to...  
  
  
****  
  
  
Jarod bought himself a new laptop. He would have felt too conspicuous   
using a computer at a public facility such as a library to check his email.   
Miss Parker was in the shower in her room, and he set up at the rickety table by   
the window in his, the last of the evening light fading away. It took him half   
an hour to set and adjust all the security measures he needed so he couldn't be   
chased, then he logged onto his email.   
  
There was only one email in his Inbox, a large file with several attachments.   
Jarod opened it, waiting for everything to download. It had no text, and was   
signed simply -CJ. The first attachment was a scanned picture of Dante,   
probably taken from his file. A black marker had been used to outline a shape,   
and it took Jarod only a moment to realise that it was an outline of Africa.   
Angelo was telling him the boy was going to be sent to Africa.  
  
The second attachment was also scanned, an internal Centre memo. It was dated   
that very day, and was neither addressed nor signed. It read: 'THE TWELFTH   
DISTINCTION MAY BE COMPROMISED. TRANSPORT SCHEDULED.' And below that was a   
date and time - the next day.  
  
The third and final attachment was a roadmap of Blue Cove and surrounding areas.   
The Centre was not on the map, but a line had been drawn in red marker from   
where the Centre should be to another point on the map, which also appeared to   
have nothing of particular import. After studying it for a few moments, and   
judging the distance and direction, Jarod realised that it was probably one of   
the Centre's airstrip - another thing never found on any map.  
  
Jarod clenched his fist. Dante was going to be sent to Africa the very next   
day, probably to spend the rest of his life in isolation and misery, just as   
Jarod had. He would not allow it to happen to another child - he didn't care   
what odds they were up against, they *would* free Dante.  
  
"Find anything interesting?" Miss Parker asked. She was leaning casually in the   
adjoining doorway, her damp hair settled around her shoulders. Her robe was   
clinging to her body, and she wore no makeup - she looked fresh, clean and   
beautiful.  
  
"Angelo sent us some information. Dante is being transported at noon tomorrow,   
we can intercept them on the way to the airstrip," he said. He stood, shutting   
down the laptop with a few keystrokes.  
  
Parker came into his room, going to the window and drawing the curtains   
closed, eliminating the light of dusk. A light was on in her room, in the   
bathroom probably, and enough filtered through into his rooms so that he could   
make out her figure moving towards him.  
  
"Everything's going to be okay," she said softly.   
  
Jarod felt her hands land on his shoulders, sliding across them and   
tugging him closer. Her hands trailed down to the buttons of the white dress   
shirt he had worn to go buy the laptop with, and she began flicking them open,   
one by one.  
  
"What are you doing?" Jarod asked unevenly.  
  
"What we both want to happen," Miss Parker said.  
  
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, raising her mouth up so he met her   
in a kiss. It was gentle, and he savoured it, his mouth brushing slowly over   
hers, with just a hint of the passion that lay beneath.  
  
Miss Parker tugged on the undershirt he was wearing, and Jarod   
straightened up to pull it over his head, startling when her cold hands landed   
over his nipples, caressing gently. He was reminded of when she had cared for   
him on Laredii, the inadvertent touches that had aroused him so much.  
  
"I thought you didn't want a relationship," he said breathily, pulling her   
closer by her hips. His mouth brushed over hers again, and he bent to taste her   
neck as she replied.  
  
"I don't, Jarod. But it would stupid to ignore what we have here, what we can   
have here. We can have this night, this time, Jarod, all to ourselves."  
  
Jarod went cold. He stopped al movement, standing stiff and resisting as   
Parker ran her hands across his chest, down his arms. He closed his eyes in   
anguish. She wanted sex. She wanted to have sex with him, not make love. Miss   
Parker, confused by his unresponsiveness, drew back questioningly.  
  
"I don't want... *one* night, Miss Parker," he rasped. His hands still on her   
hips, he set her away from him. It would be so easy to fall into bed with her,   
he realised. He caught her hands as she tried to pull him closer again, opening   
his eyes to stare at her grimly, "I don't want one night, Miss Parker, or one   
week. I don't want casual sex because we have chemistry. I don't want the   
reasons to start with 'Because we could'."  
  
"Jarod..." she said, and he shook his head.  
  
"No! Dammit, I want a lifetime with you, not one night! I want more than just   
another experience, another bump in the road. I want everything. I'm falling   
in-" Jarod bit off the last sentence painfully. He could not say those words,   
knowing she could not return them. Knowing that her advances on him tonight   
were based on lust, not love. "I can't. I think you had better go," he   
whispered.  
  
Miss Parker backed away slowly, her eyes wide and sad. She nodded,   
dropping her eyes as she turned and left the room. She closed the door behind   
her, leaving Jarod in darkness. He lay down on his bed, feeling lonely. He   
closed his eyes, sorting through memories in his head. Miss Parker as a little   
girl, so trembly and tearful after her mother's death. There were several   
extremely hazy memories of her soft voice and comforting hands, assuring him   
that everything would be all right during the Specifics attack. The scent of   
her perfume in Room 4.  
  
He had a hundred different memories that he had gathered once he escaped -   
her disgruntled phone manner, her penchant for short skirts and high heels. The   
way she had looked, wet and rumpled in the Florida Keys, the scent of rain   
clinging to her. And he had fantasised about he reading the novel he had   
written for her for months, fantasised her reading it and thinking of him.  
  
There were several memories he could do without - Parker getting blind   
drunk after Tommy's death. Seeing her shot at Donoterase. He could never wish   
her any pain or harm, and while he had been a little jealous of Thomas Gates, he   
had been glad that she had found happiness.  
  
And then there was the fiasco at Laredii Island. Seeing her in the   
compound, coming to his rescue, had delighted him. Over those days, they had   
developed a forced intimacy, culminated by an abrupt kiss on a tin skip in the   
middle of an empty ocean. Their relationship had had a long, troubled history,   
but as Jarod had come closer and closer to her over the years, he had felt an   
emotion growing in him that he could no longer suppress.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"This is Sydney," Sydney murmured. He sat up in bed, turning on a lamp. The   
silence dragged on, marked only by the very faint sounds of someone breathing on   
the other end. Sydney smiled, "Jarod. It is good to hear from you."  
  
"Hello Sydney," Jarod acknowledged finally, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Broots and I got away fairly easily, the Centre's attentions   
have been diverted. How are you and Miss Parker?"  
  
Standing in front of his motel room, looking up at the stars, Jarod   
grimaced. He wandered toward a picnic table on a patch of grass a little way   
away from the block of rooms, not wanting Miss Parker to overhear the   
conversation. "We're okay. We've been travelling together," he said.   
  
"What on earth is going on, Jarod? Broots mentioned something about clones, do   
you know anything about it?" Syd asked. Jarod smiled wryly.  
  
"It's a bit much to go into right now, Sydney, I'll explain everything another   
time. For the moment, Miss Parker and I are fine."  
  
Jarod almost choked on the last word, and swallowed heavily a few times to   
try and compose himself. There was a long, heavy silence, before Sydney asked   
gently, "Is there something wrong, Jarod?"  
  
"I think... I think I'm falling in love with her," he whispered, a few hot tears   
rolling down his cheeks, "I think I'm falling for the one person I can never   
truly have."  
  
Sydney sighed heavily. "Does she know how you feel about her?"  
  
"Yeah," Jarod said, chuckling without humour, "I think I made that pretty clear   
tonight. She offered herself. For one night. But it wasn't enough for me."  
  
"That's understandable, Jarod. When emotions are involved, sex and lust can   
quite often come a far second."  
  
"So if she offered me only sex and lust, I guess that means emotions aren't   
involved for her," Jarod said bitterly.  
  
"Not necessarily," Sydney said, and paused to gather his thoughts, "Miss Parker   
has many defence mechanisms that have become integral to her personality. She   
hides her fear and uncertainty by creating an aura of strength and violence.   
Beneath her hard, angry exterior, we both know she is capable of great love and   
compassion. It could be that she is using her baser feelings, such as sexual   
desire, to mask what she really feels - something much more tender. She has   
been hurt many times, Jarod. Perhaps she is afraid to fall in love."  
  
Jarod nodded slowly, knowing that it made sense. He just needed time,   
with Miss Parker; time to draw out what she was really feeling. "Thankyou   
Sydney," he said, and ended the call.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Miss Parker could feel the sweat trickling down her back. She pushed up   
the sleeve of her tight-fitting leather jacket, checking her watch. It was   
almost ten minutes past noon - the car containing Dante was due any moment now.  
  
She was crouched on the slope that fell away from the road, her gun at the   
ready. A large outcrop of rocks was on the other side of the road, about twenty   
feet further on, and she clutched the remote she held even tighter, praying that   
everything would go to plan. Checking her watch again, she pulled her helmet   
over her head, its visor hiding her face. She wore black boots, black leather   
pants, her black leather jacket and black leather gloves. It was a tight,   
streamlined outfit. She knew Jarod would be wearing the same.  
  
She shifted again, uncomfortable in the hot afternoon sun. She felt   
strangely relieved when she saw a black town car coming towards her, hating the   
sense of waiting. Her finger hovering over the trigger on the remote, Parker   
watched the car. Went it was around fifty feet away, she hit the trigger.   
There was a muffled explosion, and the rocks on the other side of the road began   
to slide towards the asphalt. Miss Parker ducked as dust and stones flew in her   
direction.  
  
The town car braked suddenly, screeching to a halt in front of the   
landslide. Peeking up from her hiding place, Parker watched as the dust   
settled, hearing the roar of a motorbike starting suddenly, and further up the   
road, Jarod came into view on their Harley, racing at a breakneck speed towards   
the town car. Two suited figures leapt out of the car immediately, raising   
weapons.  
  
In an instant, Miss Parker stood, taking aim and shooting one of them with   
a tranquilliser dart. He wavered on his feet, sinking to the ground as Miss   
Parker reloaded, her hands trembling. Jarod skidded the bike to a halt, looking   
forbidding and impressive in his dark clothing. She raised the dart gun again,   
shooting a second one into the other sweeper just as he pulled the trigger,   
causing his shot to go wild as he dropped.  
  
Jarod jumped off the bike, and she ran towards him, yanking her 9mm out of   
her belt as she went. Jarod jerked open one of the doors on the far side of the   
car, and she could hear him yelling for the people inside to get out of the car.   
She ran up just as the front passenger door closest to her opened, and slammed   
the butt of her gun onto a sweeper's head just as he emerged from the car,   
knocking him unconscious.   
  
On the other side of the car, Parker could see two more people emerging   
from the car - Lyle and her father. Lyle was holding Dante, who was crying   
fiercely. Glancing into the car to make sure nobody else was inside, she   
circled around the car, her gun braced in front of her. Lyle watched her as she   
came to stand beside Jarod, his eyes lingering on her slim figure.  
  
"So is it September?" I don't think so, my September was never this brave.   
Perhaps you're the other one. What Month are you?" he sneered.  
  
Jarod yanked off his helmet, his anger written all over his face. He   
glanced at Parker, and she nodded slightly. "Give me the child," he growled   
dangerously. Lyle smiled maliciously.  
  
"Catch!" he said.  
  
In a blur of motion, Lyle thrust Dante away from him suddenly, throwing   
him into the air, causing the little boy to scream in fright. Shocked, Jarod   
dropped his gun, reaching out to grab Dante just seconds before he would have   
hit the ground. Lyle snatched up his gun, holding it to Jarod's head as he held   
the tiny child close to his chest. Miss Parker stepped forward, holding her gun   
on Lyle.  
  
"Drop your weapon!" she yelled. Her father's eyes went wide.  
  
"Angel, is that you?" Mr Parker asked.  
  
Miss Parker yanked off her helmet, her long hair spilling around her   
shoulders. Her father gaped, and Lyle smirked. "I knew it!" he crowed, "You've   
probably been screwing Jarod all along, haven't you, dear *sister*? Or perhaps   
I should call you Mom? But then again, you're just a cheap imitation, aren't   
you?"  
  
Miss Parker clenched her jaw, her finger sliding over the trigger. Her   
father stepped forward slightly, and she glanced nervously at him before   
focusing her attention back on Lyle. Jarod was trying to step away from the   
gun, holding Dante tightly. "Angel! I demand an explanation!" her father   
thundered, and she could have laughed.  
  
"Shouldn't I be the one who deserves and explanation?" she asked, a hint of   
hysteria in her voice, "Let's start with the fact that I'm a clone. Or, maybe   
you should tell me why you cloned Mama in the first place. I seriously doubt it   
was because you loved her so much you wanted to see more of her!"  
  
"Angel, enough. This has just been one big mix up. We have Jarod, let's take   
him home," Mr Parker said soothingly, "We can just forget about this whole clone   
business. Once Jarod is back in the Centre, you've fulfilled your end of the   
deal. You can be free, Angel, nobody will ever chase you..."  
  
Parker shifted her gaze to him nervously. "I don't believe you," she   
whispered brokenly.  
  
"It's all okay," her father said, "Just put the gun down, and everything will be   
alright. You never have to think about any of this again. You're my daughter,   
and I love you."  
  
Miss Parker's grip on her gun wavered. She wanted, more than anything, to   
believe him. She flickered a glance at Jarod, who gazed at her beseechingly.   
It would be so easy, she realised, to give in. To see Jarod and Dante returned   
to the Centre, to walk away and forget it all. All she had to do was lower her   
gun.  
  
Instead, she shot Lyle in the chest.  
  
"Angel!" her father cried out, aghast.   
  
Lyle dropped his gun, his face going ashen. He looked down, his mouth   
opening soundlessly, pushing his suit jacket out of the way to reveal a slowly   
spreading red blister on his chest. He coughed, a deep, wet sound, touching his   
fingers to his chest and pulling them away to look at the blood, shiny and   
slick. His whole body shuddered, and he dropped heavily to his knees, looking   
up at Miss Parker, his eyes wide with shock.  
  
"My name is January," Miss Parker said softly, turning to aim her gun at her   
father, "I am a clone, and I am exactly what you have made me."  
  
"Miss Parker," Jarod said, as though from very far away, but she ignored him,   
stepping closer to her father instead. He raised his hands in surrender.  
  
"Now, sweetheart, I loved your mother, I only wanted her to have the child she   
longed for so desperately..." he said nervously, backing up as she advanced on   
him.  
  
"Are you proud... *Daddy*?" Parker asked bitterly, "Are you proud of me? I   
would have done anything for you. Anything just to know you loved me. But you   
just couldn't love a daughter who was no daughter at all, could you? I'm a   
creation of your own sick and dirty work, and you'll never see anything but   
Frankenstein's monster in me, will you?"  
  
"Miss Parker, stop!" Jarod called, but she ignored him.  
  
"Every time I looked at you, I only saw your mother," Mr Parker said quietly,   
"It became easier not to look at you at all."   
  
"Get on your knees," she said quietly. Her father stared at her, looking   
genuinely afraid, and hesitated. She yelled, "Get on your knees!"  
  
Gingerly, her father knelt, closing his eyes as she stood over him,   
pressing the muzzle of her gun between his eyes. His breath was short and fast,   
and he trembled slightly. In that moment, Miss Parker could remember every   
birthday he had forgotten, every missed dinner and phone call cut-short. She   
could remember every time he had broken her heart, and all because he couldn't   
stand her for what she was. No wonder he had told her never to use her real   
name - not because he wanted to protect her, but because he didn't want to   
acknowledge her.  
  
Her finger tightened over the trigger.  
  
"Miss Parker, you're better than this, you're better than him. You can walk   
away," she heard Jarod say behind her, very quietly.  
  
Letting out a muffled sob, she raised the butt of her gun, slamming it   
down onto her father's head. He collapsed forwards, unconscious, and she turned   
around, holding the gun out and away from her, letting it dangle from one finger   
by the trigger-guard. Looking grim, Jarod took it from her, putting the safety   
back on and putting it in his pocket. Dante, looking red-faced and scared in   
Jarod's arms, craned around to look at her.  
  
"Sis-sis!" he cried, reaching for her. Miss Parker scooped him into her arms   
gratefully, holding him close. He snuggled against her, still crying softly.  
  
"Do you here that?" Jarod asked.  
  
Miss Parker tilted her head - in the distance she could hear the blades of   
a chopper, coming closer. One of the sweepers had probably alerted the Centre   
before being knocked out. She held out her hand, which Jarod took.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
  
****  
  
  
Jarod drove them to the large central train station in Dover. He took   
back roads and detours, aware that it was very likely that Centre goons were hot   
on their trail. They didn't speak as they went inside, Jarod pushing through   
the crowds, Miss Parker following with Dante, who was asleep in her arms. Close   
to the ticketing counter, they stopped.  
  
"I thought we could get a train to NYC, and decide where to go from there,"   
Jarod said, scanning the departure times on a large overhead monitor. Miss   
Parker said something that he couldn't hear, and distracted, Jarod leaned   
forward. "What?" he said loudly.  
  
"I'm not going with you!" she yelled.  
  
Jarod gaped at her. He hadn't expected their split to be so soon, he   
wasn't prepared. He didn't want to say goodbye to her and Dante yet. "But..."   
he protested, "Miss Parker, you can't go on the run with a baby by yourself, you   
don't know how to avoid the Centre well enough yet!"  
  
"I know!" she shouted back. She pushed Dante into his arms, and Jarod took the   
baby, feeling a coldness start in his heart, spreading outwards. Miss Parker   
shook her head, "You're taking the baby, Jarod. They'll be looking for me and   
him, they won't expect you to take him."  
  
"No!" Jarod said frantically. Through the crowds, he thought he spotted a dark   
suit.  
  
"I'm not a mother, Jarod! You can raise him with the love he deserves. You'll   
be a good father to him!" Miss Parker called. Already, she was moving away from   
him.  
  
"No!" Jarod called, following, pushing past people to get to her. He caught her   
arm, dragged her close, trying to balance the baby, hold onto her and keep an   
eye out for sweepers all at once, "You can't leave me! Parker, I need you!"  
  
Miss Parker mouthed some words he didn't hear, an announcement drowning   
her out. Jarod clutched at her arm, but his grip on Dante was slipping, and he   
had to awkwardly shuffle the child from one arm to the other. He pulled Parker   
close again. "I think I'm in love with you!" he said desperately.   
  
She wiped the tears from his cheeks, passed her palm tenderly over Dante's   
soft curls, and slipped away from him again. Jarod's chest heaved, and he went   
to move after her again, blocked by a mother and a small child. He strained to   
see her over the crowds. "When will I see you again?" he yelled. He thought   
Miss Parker might have blown him a kiss over her shoulder, but then she was   
gone, disappearing into the snarl of people.  
  
Forlorn, Jarod stood by himself, cradling Dante against his chest. He was   
aware that sweepers were coming in his direction, although they had not spotted   
him yet. He would have to go, and soon - there was no chance of trailing her,   
it was too dangerous. He had Dante would have to run. He and Dante, he   
realised, only had each other now. He didn't know when, or if, he would see   
Miss Parker again.  
  
But somehow, Jarod knew, fate had brought them this far, and would bring   
them together again.  
  
Dante raised his head sleepily, blinking up at Jarod with soulful brown   
eyes. Jarod adjusted the child on his hip, the weight of responsibility   
crashing down on him. He was now sole parent and guardian to this tiny little   
boy, who had no understanding of the danger his very existence put him in.   
  
"Hi Dante," said Jarod.   
  
"He'lo," Dante said, smiling shyly.   
  
"My name is Jarod," he said, filled with irony, "I'll be taking care of you for   
awhile."   
  
  
The End.  
  
  
Author's notes: This is it, folks, my longest Pretender story ever at just over   
29,000 words. If you liked this story, please drop me a line to let me know.   
Another story in the Genesis Series will follow this one, although I don't know   
if it will be as long. 


End file.
